Back again! You may see my output slow down a bit. I work six days a week at the bookshop, which leaves me wanting to do little after work but veg out on my sofa and watch bad TV. Having said that, let's try and hold on to this streak while it lasts, shall we?
After dinner Hilda made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Harry? What are you doing here?"
"Detention," Harry Potter replied, glancing up from a stack of letters. "From the car?"
"Oh, right."
"You're here about the Vittra, right? Ginny told Ron what happened. It was a good thing you did."
"Ah! Miss Dahl." Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the back room and smiled at the girl. "Welcome to detention. Despite the unpleasantness of this afternoon, I'm not a grudge-bearing man-that is, if you don't count my disdain for the Quibbler; that Xenophilius Lovegood has been spreading nothing but slander regarding my accomplishments. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones after you've served your 'sentence', to pardon the term. Now, let's see what we can have you do. Harry here's replying to my fan mail… ah! I know, you can go over to the kettle and steam off the postage stamps for reuse in the reply letters. A knut saved is a knut earned, as the saying goes, though if you could keep this particular habit of mine away from the press, I'd be very grateful."
Hilda tramped up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, her legs heavy and complaining. "My fingers are all wrinkly," she said, holding her hands out for Harry to see.
"Yeah, my hand is killing me from forging Lockhart's signature a hundred-and-six times."
They passed through the secret door and into the common room. Saying goodnight to Harry, Hilda made her way up to the first year girls' dormitory. She collapsed into her bed, not bothering to get undressed, and was about to shut her eyes when she heard a tapping at the window. Through the glass, a Great Horned Owl peered in, looking as though it had been waiting for quite some time.
"Mum!" Hilda whispered, running to the window and opening it. The owl extended its leg, and Hilda removed the envelope. "Thank you, Friga," she said, ruffling the bird's head feathers. Friga gave a disgruntled hoot before turning and taking off, disappearing silently into the night.
Hilda sat down on the bed and opened the letter:
Dear Hilda,
How was your first day of school? Which house were you sorted into? How are Frida and David?
I apologize for the twenty questions, but the Great Raven came by today and wanted to know all about where you were and what you were doing. Tonttu says hello, and asks if there are any Nisse at Hogwarts.
I received the first royalty check from Gringotts for grandad's writing. I won't be indiscrete, but I nearly had a heart attack. Enclosed is some spending money. I don't know if there's a canteen at Hogwarts but I received an owl post this morning with a catalog from some place called 'Honeydukes'. Apparently it's a sweets shop not too far from your school. Don't fill up too much on candy. We can't have you getting another cavity, although the Grangers were kind enough to offer me a discount if we went to their office the next time we're in London.
Give my best to Frida and David. Harry, Ron and Hermione too. And the other Weasleys. Gosh, you've certainly made a lot of friends there.
I'm so proud of you,
Mum.
Hilda smiled, then reached over to the side table and grabbed a roll of parchment to reply.
"Thanks for letting me tag along today, Hilda," Alfur said, his small head poking out from the breast pocket of Hilda's robe.
"No problem, Alfur. I bet you're as excited to see the library as I am."
"Indeed I am. So many new things to learn about. I could fill up dozens of pages of notes for the elves back in the valley."
Hilda walked into the library and up the reference desk. "Excuse me?" she asked.
"The Field Guide to the Forbidden Forest is in aisle six, third shelf from the left, top row," a woman's voice called out from the back room.
"How did you know what I wanted?" Hilda asked.
"Intuition," the voice said as its speaker emerged.
Hilda's eyes went wide. "You!"
The Trolberg librarian gave the girl a stern look. "I have a name, you know," she said in her slight Norse accent. "Also, you'll want to keep your voice down; Madam Pince says that talking too loud could awaken the books in the Restricted Section. After what happened in 1972, that would be most…unpleasant."
"Oh," Hilda said. "I'm sorry. What is your name, anyway?"
"You may call me Miss Runa," the librarian replied.
"Nice to formally meet you, Miss Runa."
"Likewise, Hilda."
"How do you know my name?"
"I've looked at your library card enough times to remember it," Miss Runa replied, smiling.
"Oh," Hilda said, somewhat disappointed. She'd been expecting a more enigmatic answer. "Why are you at Hogwarts?"
"I'm here for an internship," Miss Runa replied as she opened the returns bin. "Madam Pince has been looking to retire, and Headmaster Dumbledore is anxious to bring in some Trolheim faculty."
"Well, I'm glad to see you. It's nice to see another familiar face from home."
"Are you homesick, Hilda?" Miss Runa asked.
"No, I mean, I miss my mum," Hilda admitted. "I just wish she could see all the amazing things I'm experiencing. As it is, she just has my letters."
"Which I'm sure she appreciates very much. I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I have other students to deal with—No, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, the Quidditch training manual is checked out. Mr. Potter was in here before breakfast and grabbed it."
The Hufflepuff halted in his tracks, surprised. "I haven't even told you what I wanted yet."
Hilda followed Miss Runa's directions, sure enough finding the book exactly where the librarian had said it would be. She went searching for a good alcove to read in and stumbled upon another first-year Gryffindor. "Oh, hello," she said. "You're Colin Creevey, aren't you?"
"Yep," the boy closed his book (Through a Lens, Darkly: A Novice's Guide to Wizard Photography) and shook her hand. "I thought you were brilliant yesterday in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class," he said. He gestured to his camera. "I took some pictures. When I develop them I'll give you a few copies."
"Thanks. Do you mind if I read here?"
"I don't mind," Colin said, making room on the stone window seat. Hilda sat down and began to thumb through her book. After a few minutes, Colin spoke up. "You know Harry Potter, right?"
"Uh, yeah," Hilda replied.
"What's he like? I mean, he always seems bothered by something whenever I try to take his picture. Is he alright?"
"Well, to be honest, Colin, I think he's bothered by you."
"...Oh," Colin appeared crestfallen.
"I think if you calmed down a little with trying to take his picture all of the time, he'd appreciate it and would be much more willing to let you tag along with him."
"I guess I've been hounding him a bit lately," Colin acknowledged, rubbing his arm. "He must think I'm mental."
"I don't think so. Harry's a very nice guy. He just doesn't like the celebrity attention that everyone pays him."
Colin sighed. "I just… I'm a Muggleborn. My dad's a milkman; he thought he'd lost his marbles when the owl flew through our kitchen window with my Hogwarts letter. I was worried so much about sticking out here, I tried to learn as much as I could about the Wizarding World over the summer. That's when I found out about Harry. It seemed like we had so much in common—not the whole losing his parents to the Dark Lord, I wouldn't wish that on anybody—but he didn't know about magic until he got his letter. Yet he's popular, and everyone likes him. I guess I got a little carried away."
Hilda put her hand on Colin's. "Don't worry, Colin. My mum was a Squib, I didn't know about Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or anything like that until this summer. You don't need to try and follow Harry around to find your place here. Just be yourself. If you're a good person, you'll make friends."
Colin smiled. "Thanks, Hilda." he noticed a clock on the wall above the reference desk. "We'd better go, it's almost Charms."
"Okay. Nice to meet you, Colin."
"Nice to meet you too. You're a really special person, you know that?"
"Don't start worshipping me," Hilda said, laughing.
Colin joined in. "I'll try not."
"Shhhhhhh!" Miss Runa appeared from behind a bookshelf, arms crossed.
"Sorry," the two Gryffindor's said in unison.
"Why are we in the dungeons?" David asked, following Hilda and Frida down the cold stone steps.
"I thought we'd use the free period to explore," Hilda replied. "I heard there are a few old torture chambers down here, with the skeletons still chained to the walls!"
"Don't scare him, Hilda," Frida said scoldingly. "Only thing we'll find down here is Professor Snape."
"That's even worse," David replied.
Hilda stopped, causing a small pile-up behind her. "What's this?" Ten yards ahead the corridor terminated at a wooden door. What was curious was that the door was three feet tall with no doorknob, just a brass knocker.
"What do you think is behind there?" Frida asked.
Hilda grinned. "Let's find out."
She strode and knocked twice. The door was opened by a small, wrinkled creature with long ears wearing a pillowcase. "Can Mitzy help you, Miss?" she asked, curtseying respectfully.
Hilda waved. "I'm Hilda, what is this place?"
"This is the Hogwarts kitchens, Miss Hildy. Would you like to come in? Mitzy can make you a pot of tea if you'd like. Perhaps a cocoa?"
"Cocoa sounds nice," Frida said. "It's rather cold down here." Mitzy stepped aside and opened wide the door. The three children entered, ducking low to avoid hitting their heads on the frame.
Inside, the temperature was warm, with a pleasant melange of scents wafting through the air. Large ovens blazed and pots bubbled on stovetops. Throughout the room, two dozen creatures similar to Mitzy were all hard at work, chopping vegetables, seasoning stews, and rolling out dough for tonight's meal: shepherd's pie."
Mitzy left them at a table in the corner and quickly came back with three mugs of piping hot cocoa. "What are you, if I may ask?" Hilda asked, taking on of the mugs with a nod of thanks.
"Mitzy is a house elf," the creature replied.
"Did someone say elf?" Alfur popped his head from Hilda's pocket. He jumped onto the table and held out a hand to the surprised house elf. "On behalf of the elves of Trolheim, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about your kind from books, but I've never met a house elf in person."
"Mr. Alfur is too kind," Mitzy replied, taking the elf's tiny and giving it a dainty shake. "Trolheim elves is smaller than Mitzy was expecting."
"He's on the tall side for an elf," Frida said, smiling.
"So what do you all do here?" Frida asked, looking around the room again as she sipped her cocoa.
"We serve Hogwarts through the goodness of Headmaster Dumblydore."
"So, you cook the meals?" David asked.
Mitzy nodded. "And clean the dormitories, and wax the hallways, and wash the laundry."
"I never knew you were here," Frida said.
"What, did you think a ghost was cleaning your messy room?" David teased. Frida punched the boy in the arm. "Ow!"
"What I meant was, Hogwarts: A History never mentioned you all were here."
"We are humble folk, houses elves is," Mitzy said, blushing.
"How come you can see Alfur without signing the paperwork?" Hilda asked.
"Elves and house elves are descended from the same ancestors," Alfur said. "We have no need for contracts to see one another, we're basically kin."
"Wow, so, the school pays you all to work here?" Frida asked.
Mitzy gave a squeaky laugh. "Oh, no Miss Hildy. House elves are bound to the school. We serve Dumbledore because he is our master."
"You work here for free? Isn't that slavery?"
"Mitzy prefers the term 'contract laborer'. It has a nicer ring to it, don't you agree?"
"You aren't upset about being bound to the school?" David asked.
"House elves are a lot like Nisse back home," Alfur explained. "They and their human masters are co-dependent. The humans give the house elves food and shelter, and the house elves care for the masters. Do you pay Tonttu for his work around the apartment?"
"Well, no."
"You see? Creatures can't be judged by human standards. They have their own perspectives on the world. You said so yourself back in Trolberg."
"You're right, Alfur," Hilda said. She finished her cocoa and shook Mitzy's hand. "It was very nice meeting you, Mitzy."
"Miss Hildy and friends is always welcome in the kitchens," Mitzy replied, beaming. "It is so uncommon to have guests."
As the three children left, Mitzy called to them. "Has Miss Hildy by any chance seen a house elf named Dobby around the school?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Dobby is not bound to Hogwarts. Dobby is in the service of an unknown master. His reasons for being here are unknown. Miss Hildy and friends should be careful."
Hilda awoke the crack of dawn Saturday morning. It was precisely because she had nowhere to go so early that she woke so early: a free day meant a day of exploring the castle grounds, and it was best to make the most of it. She threw on her red sweater, forgoing the school robes in favor of something more comfortable, more familiar. She opened the tower window and gazed out over the rooftops of Hogwarts. In the distance, she could see the Quidditch field, the figures on broomsticks looking like elves riding toothpicks from her far-off vantage point.
She caught flashes of red on the uniforms. She peered under the bed, pushing aside a few dirty shirts to reveal Twig softly snoring. "Wake up, boy!" she said, gently shaking the deerfox. Twig jumped, ears pricked; for a moment he still thought he was chasing a flock of Woffs through a meadow. "Let's go watch the Quidditch practice."
It had been two weeks since she's arrived at Hogwarts and by now she was getting a feel for the castle's little quirks. From the Gryffindor portrait she went left and crept behind a tapestry of Lord Farquaad the Short into a secret passage that, judging from the cobwebs, had not been explored in some time. Hurrying through the darkness, the ground gave way under her, and with a cry she tumbled down a smooth, slippery chute, Twig sliding down howling after her.
A few minutes later, they landed with a thud at the bottom. After the first time Hilda had fallen down the slide she had appropriated a feather cushion from the Gryffindor common room, which did a satisfactory job of breaking her fall afterward. Dusting herself off, she stepped forward, slipping out from behind a suit of armor and out into the hallway outside of McGonagall's classroom.
After that, it was through a window and a short five-foot jump to the soft ground of the herb garden outside of Professor Sprout's personal greenhouse. A Vittra stuck its head out of the loam and appraised Hilda with suspicion before going back to sleep.
Hilda decided to take a detour around the lake. Stopping by the shore, she fished in her bag for a waxpaper parcel and unwrapped a fish she'd gotten from Mitzy in the kitchen. "Here girl!" She called out, flopping the fish around in the shallow water. A second later, a long pink tentacle slithered up from the depths of the lake, grabbed the fish, and pulled it back with a splash, missing Hilda but soaking the unfortunate Twig, who was not amused by his mistress's laughter.
Moving on, they stopped again a half-mile later. Fifty feet from them, the Whomping Willow sat, limbs twitching ominously in the cool morning breeze. Hilda picked up a smooth round pebble by her boot and tossed it to the tree. One of the willow's branches shot out and smacked the rock skyward like a fly cricket ball. It landed far out in the lake. "C'mon," Hilda whispered, watching the ripples in the water slowly fade. A moment later, the rock flew back out of the lake, shot like a cannon to the shore. Hilda clapped her hands. "That squid is getting good at this," she said to Twig, who nodded in agreement.
Finally, they arrived at the Quidditch field a half-hour later than originally planned. Hilda climbed up the Gryffindor bleachers, where she found Ron, Hermione, and Colin Creevey watching acrobatics of the players overhead. "Morning, Hilda," Ron said, waving to the girl as she took a seat near them. "Why are you up to so early?"
"I wanted to see the practice." She put her bag down beside her and opened it, producing a black sketchbook slightly stained from troll spittle. She began to sketch the players, paying particular attention to Harry's diving and darting as he chased the Snitch.
She had just finished sketching Fred Weasley getting knocked off his broom by an errant bludger when Hermione groaned. "What are they doing?" she asked, pointing to the edge of the field.
"We'd better take care of this," Ron said, standing up and fishing his wand from his robe pocket. Hilda noticed that the wand had been sellotaped around the middle. Looking down to where Hermione had been pointing, she spotted a platoon of figures in emerald green strutting across the grass. The Gryffindor players had evidently noticed as well, as they began to descend towards the Slytherins, hopping off their brooms and gathering to form a wall before the advancing snakes.
Hilda and the other observers made it to the bottom just as Oliver Wood pushed his way to the head of the Gryffindor barricade. "What are you doing, Flint?" he demanded, broom held in front of him like a bo staff. "Gryffindors have the field reserved for practice this morning."
Marcus Flint gave a buck-toothed sneer. "We have a note," he said, producing a roll of parchment from his robe pocket. "Go on and read it."
Harry took the parchment and read it aloud. "Professor Severus Snape requests the Slytherin Quidditch team be given use of the field Saturday morning, so that they may train their new Seeker." He crumpled the note up and tossed it back to Flint. "What new seeker?" he asked.
Flint chuckled and stepped aside, revealing Draco Malfoy, flanked on both sides by Crabbe and Goyle. "We have new beaters too, Potter. What do you think?"
"Malfoy," Harry growled.
"At ease, Potter," the blond Slytherin replied, smirking. "If you keep scowling so hard you'll burst a blood vessel."
"How did you get on the team?" Ron asked.
"Malfoy's dad gave us new brooms," Crabbe said. Malfoy quickly elbowed him in the side. "Oh, I mean, it is unrelated to the fact that Lord Malfoy has given the Slytherin team new brooms." He looked over at Malfoy for confirmation. Malfoy shrugged as if to say close enough.
"Those are Nimbus 2001s!" Katie Bell said, gesturing at Malfoy's gear. "Those aren't even for sale yet!"
"Dad has connections," Malfoy said, buffing out a mark on the handle of his broom. "Unlike Weasley's poor father, he knows the value of friends in high places."
"If you think you're better than us because your precious daddy bought your way onto the team then you're dumber than Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione said.
"What did she say?" Crabbe asked.
Malfoy's face reddened. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it, you stupid Mudblood."
A chorus of gasps sounded out around Hilda. The girl just frowned. "What's a Mudblood?" she asked, but no one heard her.
"You've gone too far, Malfoy," Ron pulled his wand. "Eat slugs!" A second later, the redhead he was on the ground, belching out gastropods. The Slytherins burst out laughing. Colin Creevey raised his camera, but Hilda shook her head, and he wisely lowered it, smiling apologetically.
The teams stepped aside as Hermione and Harry picked up their fallen friend and half-dragged him away from the field. Wood watched them go, shaking his head as he turned back to the other Gryffindors. "C'mon, team, we can discuss strategy in the locker room, let's leave these children with their shiny new toys."
As the Gryffindor team left, Hilda stomped over to Draco. "That wasn't very nice, Draco," she said, hands on her hips.
"What do I care?" Draco asked, scowling. "Run along with the rest of the cowardly lions, Dahl."
Hilda's fists clenched. Kill him, a voice whispered at the back of her mind. "What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like a spoiled brat?"
"Why are you acting like I'm your friend?"
"Because I thought you were my friend!" Hilda cried out.
Crabbe and Goyle both laughed. "Yeah, right, that's a larf. A Malfoy and a Mudblood, sitting on a broom, k-i-s-s-i-n-"
"That doesn't even rhyme, you idiots!" Malfoy snarled, turning to his cronies. He looked back at Hilda, anger in his eyes. Pulling out his wand, he shot a stinging jinx at the girl, who gave a yelp and grabbed her shoulder. "Get out of here, Hilda."
Hilda's eyes began to water. Do it, the voice urged. Hilda's want started to shake in her robe pocket. Hilda's eyes went dead white. "I thought you were better than your father, but you're just like him," she hissed, before pulling out her wand.
Hilda woke up groaning. She sat up and looked around, finding herself on an oversized sofa in a cozy stone hut. Something heavy and wet was resting on her feet. Looking down, she saw a massive canine face staring up at her, drool running down its chin onto Hilda's leggings.
"Ew! Fang!" she sat up, then moaned in pain as her back spasmed slightly.
"Oh, Hilda, you're awake!" At the other end of the room, Hagrid set down his mug of tea and stood up. "You had a nasty spill outside."
"I did?" she said, rubbing her head.
"Your knockback jinx backfired," a voice said, followed by the ugly sound of retching. Also at the table with Hagrid was Harry, Hermione and Ron, the latter still puking slugs into a bucket.
"We thought you may have broken it, but it seems like it's alright," Hermione crossed the room and handed Hilda her wand. "I can't imagine why it would disobey you like that."
Hilda looked down at the wand and felt it pulse in her hand. "I wanted to hurt him," Hilda whispered.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Would you like to join us, Hilda? I've got tea and rock cakes."
Hilda stood up, shrugging off the soreness on her back, and walked over to the table, sitting as far away from Ron and his bucket as possible. Twig stuck his head out from under the table and barked. "Hiya, boy. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."
"It was your deerfox who found us and brought us to you," Hagrid said. "You were just lying dazed beside the Quidditch pitch, and those Slytherins were practicing up above you as if you were nothing but an oddly-shaped rock."
Hilda sniffled, remembering her fight with Draco. "I thought Draco was my friend," she muttered.
"Malfoy's a git," Ron began, then cut himself short with another round of gagging. "Oh, Merlin, that one was yellow."
"I'd have to agree. He doesn't like friends so much as he likes admirers. If I were you, I'd stop having anything to do with him," Harry advised.
"But he was nice to me in the bookstore," Hilda said. "He didn't report Twig for biting him, and he didn't tell his dad we were spying on him in Borgin and Burkes."
"What on earth were you lot doin' in Borgin and Burkes?" Hagrid asked.
Hilda didn't pay him any attention. "What was that he called Hermione? A Mudblood?"
"Malfoy did what now?" Hagrid's face looked like a hairy beet. "I'll teach him a lesson. Why, I'll get my umbrella and storm drag his hide into Snape's office and give him a good, public thrashing."
"Hagrid, no. Don't get involved," Harry said, grabbing the half-giant's arm. "He's not worth the trouble."
"But what does it mean?" Hilda pressed on.
"It's an awful word," Hermione finally spoke up. "One of the worst words a wizard can use to describe a Muggleborn."
Hilda seemed unconvinced. "I can think of a dozen words worse than that, although my mum would ground me for a month if she caught me using any of them.
"Mudblood is an awful slur, Hilda," Ron said, finally catching a break from the bucket to speak. "Draco's saying that because Hermione's parents weren't wizards, she's worse than dirt in his eyes."
"But, my mum is a Muggle," Hilda said, eyes beginning to water again. "I'm a Muggleborn! So is Frida! So are David and Colin. If he hates Hermione, he must hate me and all of them, too."
"Don't let him get to you, Hilda," Harry said. "You're ten times better than Malfoy and his dad put together."
"I'm sorry," Hilda said, wiping an eye with her sleeve. "I just thought he was a better person than to say something like that."
"The Malfoys bred all of the niceness out of their family tree generations ago," Harry replied.
Hilda stood up and walked to the door, picking up her bag along the way. "I'm going to go back to the castle," she said.
"Do you want us to come with you?" Hermione asked, making to stand up.
"No, I… I want to be alone. Come along, Twig."
Hilda waited until the door of Hagrid's hut had latched shut behind her before burying her face in her hands.
High up in his office, Dumbledore was suddenly alerted by a ringing sound. Setting down the Wizengamot speech he was memorizing, he walked over to his desk and inspected one of the gizmos there, which was glowing a hot white light. "Well, that's interesting."
Hmmmm, what vague development is this? Does the author even know? Let's change the subject.
Fav, follow and leave a review if you are enjoying the story so far. Feel free to PM me with any questions, and I would be happy to respond to them at the beginning of the next chapter!