Hermione, Ron, and Harry went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had escaped his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery, Ron was saying they ought to have suspected it all along.
"Fits, doesn't it?" Ron said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup. I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the Goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here – I'll do it –'"
Pigwidgeon was so over-excited at the idea of a delivery, he was flying round and round Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg. Hermione just hung back and watched her two best friends renew their friendship after an incredibly long month of stubbornness.
"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous. How could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this Tournament, Harry. I'm serious."
At that, Hermione knew she had to rejoin the conversation. She leant against the Owlery wall, folded her arms and frowned at Ron.
"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this Tournament," she said thoughtfully. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."
He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again.
They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry – Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."
Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor Common Room, it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and bottles of pumpkin juice and Butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt. However, a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.
They all joined in the fun, helping themselves to food and laughing with the rest. Hermione hadn't been that happy in quite some time.
"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg Harry had left on a table and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"
"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the Tournament rules."
"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own, too," Harry muttered so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily.
"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed.
Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.
It was hollow and completely empty – but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party, who had all been playing the musical saw.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.
"What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee! Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"
"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilt sausage rolls over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus curse!"
"Don't be a prat, Neville. That's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing. Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."
"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred.
Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.
"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch –"
Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out.
Fred laughed. "Just my little joke, Neville."
Hermione took a jam tart, though she was still hesitant. She inspected the pastry in her hands for a moment before a thought hit her. "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" she asked.
"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful. Get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."
"How do you get in there?" Hermione said, in an innocently casual sort of voice, trying not to alarm him.
"Easy," said Fred. "Concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and –" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly. She had gotten all the information she needed.
"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"
Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer.
"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"
Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a giant canary.
"Oh – sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot – it was the custard creams we hexed –"
However, Neville had moulted within a minute, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared, looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. Hermione, however, didn't have time to laugh. She had to plan.
The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Draughty though the castle always was in winter, Hermione was glad of its fires and thick walls every time she passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. She thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly, too. Hagrid was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whisky; the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock were enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible Skrewts and needed their wits about them.
"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an' see if they fancied a kip. We'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes."
There were now only ten Skrewts left; apparently, their desire to kill each other had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick grey armour, powerful, scuttling legs, fire-blasting ends, stings, and suckers combined to make the Skrewts the most repulsive things Hermione had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.
"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."
But the Skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don' panic, now, don' panic!" while the Skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smouldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class – Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in the lead – had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Hermione, Ron, and Harry, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the Skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one Skrewt was left.
"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted, as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the Skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an' slip the rope round his sting, so he won' hurt any o' the others!"
"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry were backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the Skrewt off with their sparks. Hermione wasn't exactly sure how to help (or if it was even possible to help).
"Well, well, well ... this does look like fun."
Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.
Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the Skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby. Hermione couldn't help but look at the scene through the eyes of the scandalmonger and cringed.
"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the Skrewt's sting and tightened it.
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.
"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore?" said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed Skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows. Hermione looked at Rita for an explanation, but Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.
"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.
"Really?" said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. "I've never heard of them before. Where do they come from?"
Hermione noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and her heart sank. Where had Hagrid gotten the Skrewts from? Thinking fast, Hermione blurted out, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they, Harry?" and hoped Harry would take the hint.
"What? Oh, yeah ... ouch ... interesting," said Harry as Hermione stepped on his foot to help him along.
"Ah, you're here, Harry!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favourite lessons?"
"Yes," said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him.
"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid.
Hermione noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek), Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass, waiting to see if the coast was clear. This wasn't going to end well for the loveable giant.
"This is on'y me second year," said Hagrid.
"Lovely," Rita said. The way she said "lovely" made Hermione's stomach churn. "I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these – er – Bang-Ended Scoots."
"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. Hermione tried to shake her head without Rita noticing, but Hagrid wasn't looking in her direction. "Er – yeah, why not?"
Hermione had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter arranged to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang at the castle, signalling the end of the lesson.
"Well, goodbye, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Ron and Hermione. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"
"She'll twist everything he says," Harry said.
"Just as long as he didn't import those Skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione desperately. They looked at each other – it was precisely the sort of thing Hagrid might do.
"Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him," said Ron consolingly. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the Skrewts. Sorry, did I say worst? I meant best."
Hermione and Harry laughed and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.
For the first time in a few weeks, Hermione thoroughly enjoyed double Arithmancy with Sophie. She had been so preoccupied with everything that had happened that she couldn't concentrate on her favourite class.
"I never did ask you," Hermione said to Sophie as she sat down before Professor Vector arrived. "Did anyone ever comment about how you came to my aid after Malfoy's spell?"
"I got a few riffs here and there from a few people, but nothing as bad as I had thought," Sophie said. "I also think it helped that they saw me on Viktor Krum's arm after the fact. How about you?"
"No one mentioned a thing to me," Hermione said. "But, remember that most of my free time was spent helping Harry figure out the first task."
"That first task was mental," Sophie said. "How is any of this appropriate for students to participate in, with or without an age restriction?"
"That's the one thing I can't figure out about this school," Hermione agreed. "No one seems to care that students are in mortal peril on a daily basis. Oh, you did something bad? Detention in the Forbidden Forest with thousands of species that could kill you. Tired of boring old Quidditch? Here, fight a dragon in an international competition. Talk about mental. And don't get me started on the slave labour."
Professor Vector opened the classroom door and placed some papers on her desk, signalling the start of class.
"Arithmancy club soon?" Sophie asked.
"Absolutely."
After class, Hermione started to walk to the Great Hall for dinner, but her comments about Hogwarts repeated around in her head. She had to revitalise S.P.E.W., now that the first task was over, and she knew exactly what she could do.
Following Fred's directions, Hermione made her way down towards the Hufflepuff Common Room in the basements and found her way to the painting of a silver bowl of fruit hanging on the wall. Just as Fred said, there was a huge, green pear sitting among the apples and oranges. Hermione took a deep breath and tickled the pear. A squeaky giggle came from behind the painting as the pear turned into a giant green handle. Hermione took a few steps inside, trying to wrap her head around what she saw.
An enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end greeted her just inside the entrance. There were four long wooden tables that, if Hermione had her bearings about her correctly, corresponded exactly with the tables in the great hall. At first she thought the kitchens were empty but, after a moment, House-Elves started rushing up to her from all the places they seemed to have been hiding.
"Good evening, Miss!"
"Are you hungry, Miss?"
"Can I mend anything for you, Miss?"
"Friend of Harry Potter?" came the loudest voice from the crowd. Though she had never seen him before, Hermione knew at once it was Dobby. He was a smallish house-elf with enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes, a pencil-shaped nose, bat-like ears, and long fingers and feet. He was covered from head to toe in an assortment of garments, including a tea cosy for a hat and a tie patterned with horseshoes.
"Dobby?" she guessed.
"Yes! Friend of Harry Potter knows Dobby!" Dobby jumped up and down with excitement. "Will Harry Potter come to visit Dobby soon? Dobby misses his friend Harry Potter."
"Of course, I can bring him down!" Hermione said.
"Thank you, friend of Harry Potter," Dobby said, bowing. "Dobby is hoping Harry Potter can help Dobby's friend Winky, miss."
"Winky is here?" Hermione gasped.
"Yes, Winky is here, miss. Winky is not doing good."
"What's wrong with her?" Hermione asked.
"Winky is sad, Miss."
"Why? And you can call me Hermione," she replied.
"Dobby is honoured to call the friend of Harry Potter by her first name," Dobby said, bowing again. "Thank you, Miss Hermione."
"Of course," Hermione said, trying not to be impatient. "So what is wrong with Winky?"
"Oh, Winky is sad that Winky's master gave Winky clothes," Dobby said. "Can Miss excuse Dobby for a moment, please? It's Dobby's dinnertime shift."
"Sure," Hermione said, excited to see the "behind the scenes" of dinner. Hopefully, this would give her some ideas for future S.P.E.W. talking points.
What she saw utterly blew her away. What looked to be many more than one hundred house-elves scattered about, making things appear and disappear in milliseconds, simply by snapping their fingers. They had strategically designated spots up and down each table, where each elf took care of three to four meals at once. It was the most perfectly choreographed production Hermione had ever seen.
The elves started slowing down a bit as the last few dinner meals were settled upon and sent to each student. Before Hermione knew it, dinner was over, and dessert was served (in much of the same way). However, some elves split off to magic the dishes clean and put them away.
Dobby came rushing over to Hermione with a giant smile on his face. "Dobby thanks Miss for watching," he said. "Can Miss get Harry Potter now?"
"Of course!" Hermione said, still in shock from the show she had just witnessed. Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran all the way up to the Gryffindor Common Room. She saw Ron and Harry starting to climb into the Portrait hole.
"Harry!" Hermione panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). "Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come! The most amazing thing happened. Please!"
She seized Harry's arm and tried dragging him back along the corridor.
"What's the matter?" Harry said.
"I'll show you when we get there – oh, come on, quick –"
"OK," Harry said, starting back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron hurrying to keep up.
"Oh, don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after them. "Don't apologise for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?"
"Yeah, thanks," Ron shouted over his shoulder.
"Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the Entrance Hall.
"You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly.
She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and down another flight of stone steps. Instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one which led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad, stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.
"Oh, hang on," said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione."
"What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.
"I know what this is about," said Harry.
He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl. She had been found out.
"Hermione!" said Ron, cottoning on. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!'
"No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron –"
"Changed the name, have you?" said Ron, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work. I'm not doing it."
"I'm not asking you to!" Hermione said impatiently, secretly hating herself for liking the name, even if Ron was being sarcastic. "I came down here just now to talk to them all, and I found – oh, come on, Harry, I want to show you!"
She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle, just like before. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.
"Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"
Dobby launched himself at Harry, nearly knocking him over in his excitement.
"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.
"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed house-elf. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"
Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous eyes brimming with tears of happiness.
"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.
"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"
"Winky?" said Harry. "She's here, too?"
"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand, and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Hermione and Ron followed closely behind.
At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing and curtseying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform; a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga.
Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.
"Winky, sir!" he said.
All three friends looked over where Dobby was pointing. Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She wore a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt. Hermione gasped at the state of the poor elf.
"Hello, Winky," said Harry.
Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, spilling out of her great brown eyes and splashing down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Oh, dear," said Hermione. "Winky, don't cry, please don't."
But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.
"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly over Winky's sobs.
"Er – yeah, OK," said Harry.
Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug and a large plate of biscuits.
"Good service!" Ron said in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.
"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed round the tea.
"Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed."
At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.
"Dobby has travelled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"
"Good for you, Dobby!" Hermione said with the biggest, most encouraging smile she could muster. She noticed all of the other House-Elves looking down in embarrassment that they couldn't be as brave as Dobby was.
"Thank you, Miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes, and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter ... Dobby likes being free!
"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed, too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly.
At this, Winky flung herself forwards off her stool and lay, face down, on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her, and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference.
Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches. "And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. "And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"
Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.
"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"
"That's not very much!" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating.
"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, "but Dobby beat him down, Miss. Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, Miss. He likes work better."
"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly.
If she had thought this would cheer Winky up, she was wildly mistaken. Winky stopped crying, but when she sat up, she glared at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.
"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"
"Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly, not understanding. "But – Winky, come on! It's Mr Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong. He was really horrible to you-"
But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr Crouch! Mr Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"
"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," squeaked Dobby sadly. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr Crouch any more; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."
"Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry asked.
"Oh, no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honour, and we never speaks ill of them – though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to-to –"
Dobby looked suddenly nervous, and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forwards.
Dobby whispered, "He said we is free to call him a – a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!"
Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle.
"But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he said, talking normally again. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets for him."
"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning.
A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's big eyes.
"Dobby – Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were – were – bad Dark wizards!"
Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring – then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.
"Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.
"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said.
"Practice!" squealed Winky furiously. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"
"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly, making Hermione's heart swell with pride. "Dobby doesn't care what they think any more!"
"Oh, you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "My poor Mr Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me. He is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her ... oh, what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh, the shame, the shame!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.
"Winky," said Hermione, firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know –"
"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tear-stained face out of her skirt and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "He and Mr Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."
"Mr Bagman comes, too?" squeaked Winky, and to Hermione's great surprise, she looked angry again. "Mr Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"
"Bagman – bad?" said Harry.
"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously. "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying. Winky – Winky keeps her master's secrets …"
She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"
They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.
"Dobby is going to buy a jumper next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.
"Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron. "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas. I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?"
Dobby was delighted, almost as much as Hermione was.
"We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with your tea cosy."
As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at how the elves kept bowing and curtseying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies.
"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say goodnight. "See you, Dobby!"
"Harry Potter ... can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively.
"'Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.
"You know what?" said Ron once he, Hermione and Harry had left the kitchens behind, and were climbing the steps into the Entrance Hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens – well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"
"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that, too!"
"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Harry.
"Oh, she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she secretly wondered if that would indeed be the case. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man."
"She seems to love him," said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).
"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"
"Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," said Hermione, "and let's face it, he's got a point, hasn't he?"
"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humour."
"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humour, would he?" said Ron, starting on a chocolate éclair. "Percy wouldn't recognise a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cosy."
