Disclaimer: Come join the Creevey Brothers and the Creevey Sister, JK Rowling—oh, wait, wrong story.
A/N: Reader paradigmfinch created an excellent piece of cover art for The Arithmancer featuring Hermione in her basilisk-skin coat. You can go see it at "paradigmsfinch" (note the s) on tumblr, along with a sneak peak of things to come.
Chapter 79
Hermione spent her day off at Hogwarts hanging out with her friends, writing a letter home about the Task, working with the Creevey Brothers on the photos, and doing the closest thing she ever did to relaxing. She took up her time that morning observing Colin and Dennis in the darkroom as they extracted the best photos from Ron's Omnioculars. There were a number of good shots of the champions swimming together, fighting grindylows, and freeing the hostages, Krum swimming away, the others prying their way out of the cage of strangler seaweed, and then splitting up.
"These are great!" Colin said. "Exclusive photos, too. They'll be worth a small fortune. Ten galleons, easy. Maybe twenty."
"We could take out classified ads with that kind of money," Dennis said. "Couldn't we, Colin?"
"Probably, yeah. Wow, us starting a real wizard business, Dennis. How cool is that? We could call it Creevey Bros. Pictures. You know, like Warner Bros."
"Merlin's Beard!" Dennis squeaked. Both Creeveys made it a point to use wizarding figures of speech. But that wasn't in response to his brother. He held up the latest photo, and both Colin and Hermione gasped when they saw Ginny kissing a shirtless Harry underwater, something they had not done in public at all yesterday.
"Better run this one by those two before we reveal it," Hermione said.
"So Moody gave you the Gillyweed?" Sirius said.
"Yeah. Right before the Task," Harry replied through the magic mirror. "He seemed to think I'd need it."
"Hmm, breaking the rules that blatantly is a stretch, even for him. Did you tell him you had another way to get through it?"
"Not exactly, but I told him Hermione had worked it out."
"And how did he react to that?" Sirius asked.
"Seemed a little annoyed, actually…Come to think of it, he was kinda the same at the First Task, too."
"Odd. I might chalk that up to him not trusting anyone but himself."
"But why go that far to help me?"
"Dumbledore's orders, I suspect. Moody can get away with helping you more than Dumbledore can, and they both want you kept safe. I can write Dumbledore about it, if you want."
"No, it makes sense, Sirius," Harry said.
"Who're you talking to, Harry?" a ginger girl said, leaning on his shoulder.
"Ginny? I thought you were outside," Harry said.
"I was wondering where you'd gone off to. Is that Sirius?"
"Er, yeah. Magic mirror."
"Hey, there, Ginny," Sirius said. "I hope the Task wasn't too rough for you."
"No, no, I'd say it went pretty well," Ginny said with a grin.
"Oh, I think there's a story there," Sirius needled.
Harry quickly changed the subject back: "We were just talking about why Moody gave me the gillyweed."
Ginny nodded, apparently not offended. "That was odd," she agreed. "Say, has Moody still been meeting with Mr. Crouch?"
"Um, yeah, a couple of times."
"What's this, now?" Sirius asked.
"Mr. Crouch has stopped coming around," Harry explained.
"Percy says he's ill," added Ginny.
"Yeah, but I've seen him meeting Professor Moody in his office on the Marauder's Map."
"Really? That sounds suspicious," Sirius said. "Are you sure it was him?"
"Unless there's some other Bartimius Crouch running around."
"No, the only other one would be his son, and he died years ago."
"Could he have faked his death, like Wormtail?" Harry asked. At this point, almost nothing in the wizarding world would surprise him.
"No. He died in Azkaban. I saw him carried out myself," Sirius said. "Besides, Moody would know."
"Crouch's son was in Azkaban?" Harry was started, but he was interrupted by yet another girl.
Hermione was approaching them with a wicked grin on her face: "Hello, Harry. Hello Ginny. Just the couple I was looking for."
"Hermione?" Harry said. "Ugh, I thought the Common Room would be private enough this time of day."
"Hey, there, Hermione," Sirius piped up. "Good job figuring out the Task."
"Er, thanks, Sirius," she said, noticing the mirror was active. "I, um—I had the Creevey Brothers pull the recording off Ron's Omnioculars from yesterday. We found a clip that I thought you'd like to see."
Harry's eyes widened, and he turned pale. Ginny flushed when she figured out what Hermione was talking about. "Oh, you got photos of the Task?" Sirius said curiously.
"Yes. Take a look."
"Hermione," Harry groaned.
"I think it turned out pretty well." She turned the glossy print around to her two friends and the mirror. Ginny was floating there, her robes and her long, red hair billowing in the murky water like a strangely-dressed sea nymph. She was literally nose to nose with Harry, leaning into the bubble around his head. She leaned an inch closer, and their lips met. She held it for a second or two, her arms tightening around his bare torso, before pulling away just slightly. She started to say something, but jerked back as the gills formed on her neck before the loop restarted.
Sirius wolf-whistled. "I knew you had it in you, Pup!" he said excitedly. "You take good care of him now, Ginny."
"Don't worry, I will," the younger girl said, linking her arm through Harry's.
"Please tell me you didn't send this to the Prophet," Harry said.
"Of course not. I wouldn't do that to you," Hermione assured him.
"I could use a couple copies, though," Ginny said.
"What for?" Harry asked worriedly.
Ginny gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Just for evidence to brag to my friends," she said.
With that issue taken care of, Hermione finally had time to visit the kitchens. George and Fred tagged along, since they visited frequently anyway, although that was mostly for snacks. She would feel guilty if she missed a chance to see her elf friends during her rare visits, and she also wanted to check on Winky. She'd been worried about her since Christmas.
The elves Hermione knew well, like Sonya, Tilly, Vanny, little Smidgen, and Remie, were all excited to see her. The kitchens were abuzz with news of the Second Task, and they asked her to tell all she cold about it, which was more than anyone else save the champions could. The elves looked pretty lost when she tried to explain game theory to them, but the Twins found it fascinating.
"I never knew there was that much arithmancy in strategy," Fred mused. "Or in finance apart from balancing your books."
"Oh, it's all over the place in the muggle world," Hermione told him. "It's getting to be so you have to know a lot of maths to be competitive at the top levels in a lot of fields."
"So I guess you're got it made in both world, then?" George said.
"Er, I don't know if I'd go that far, but I try."
"Fred, we should've taken Arithmancy," he said.
Fred snorted: "Maybe you should've. Ancient Runes I'll give you, but I don't expect we'll need much arithmancy in the shop—no offence, Hermione."
"Oooh, are you gonna take that, Hermione?" George egged her on.
"It's fine. I've been hearing 'What's maths good for?' my whole life. I just let results speak for themselves."
George sniggered at Fred's expense until Fred said, "Oi, she's talking about you, too, you know!"
Hermione giggled at both of them a little longer before she got down to business: "By the way, where's Winky? Have you seen her, Dobby?"
Dobby's ears drooped immediately, as did a couple of the other elves', she noticed. "Winky is over by the fire, Miss Hermione," Dobby said, "but you might not be liking what you sees."
Concerned, Hermione rushed over to the fireplace, and she gasped when she saw her. Winky looked worse than ever. She was so covered in dirt, soot, and stains that she might as well have been living in the bush. Mr. Crouch's necktie around her neck remained clean, but was faded, fraying, and going threadbare from what Hermione realised must have been obsessive cleaning. Her own uniform—the Hogwarts tea towel—had grown ragged and filthy. Winky rocked on her little stool, nearly insensible, with a bottle of Butterbeer in one hand.
"Merlin's beard, what happened to her?" one of the Twins said. She didn't look to see which one.
"How did she get this bad?" Hermione said, mostly to herself. "Didn't the other elves—?" But most of the other elves were averting their eyes and returning to their work. Something was very wrong here. "Winky? Winky, can you hear me?"
Winky moaned and swayed on her stool, sloshing Butterbeer on her tea towel. "Hic—Miss Hermione Grager? Is that being—hic—you?"
"Yes, Winky, it's me."
"Did Winky's—hic—Mr. Crouch send you?"
Hermione looked worriedly at the other elves. "No, Winky, Professor Dumbledore is your master, now. He bound you to the castle properly. Don't you remember?"
"Winky wants to go—hic—home," the elf whined. "Winky's Mr. Crouch musts bes—hic—coming backs."
"Actually, I don't think I've seen Crouch around since before Christmas," Fred said.
Winky squeaked loudly. "Mr. Crouch is not being here—hic?" she said.
"No. Percy keeps saying he's ill, but something seems real fishy—"
"Oh, poor Master!" Winky cried. "He cannot be—hic—getting by without Winky! Winky—hic—must help—" She leapt to her feet, but as she did, the bottle dropped from her hand and bounced on the floor. She had stood too fast. She swayed once and fell flat on her face.
"Winky!" Hermione rushed to her side to help. The elf seemed to be unconscious, and her skin was clammy. Hermione turned her head to the side so she wouldn't choke if she threw up, and two elves threw a tablecloth over her and moved on without speaking. Hermione looked up and spotted an older elf with grey eyes. "Tilly, please, isn't there anything we can do to help her?" she asked. "I know she was devastated by being freed, but—"
Tilly shook her head sadly: "Miss Hermione, you needs to understand. For an elf, being dismissed is losing everything. You has nothing but the clothes your master gives and a ruined reputation. Even if a dismissed elf finds work again, even if it is for a bound master again, it is breaking some of them, and there is no helping them. They has to do it on their own. An elf who has been dismissed either recovers on her own after a while or…"
"Or…?"
"Or she dies, miss."
Hermione fell silent. Suddenly, Draco Malfoy's words to Dobby back at the World Cup made sense. In his arrogance, he had expected Dobby to die without his masters, whether by alcohol poisoning, self-neglect, or plain poverty. But Dobby had actually wanted to be free, and he had immediately found a new employer who treated him like a person with real value. As a result, he was probably the most mentally healthy and fulfilled elf in Britain, even if he was still barmy.
Most elves didn't want to be free, though. They didn't want to be free with a desperate ferocity that was downright scary. Muggles might call it Stockholm Syndrome, but you didn't see people accusing dogs of having Stockholm syndrome when they sat vigil by their masters' graves, did you? And that was closer to their temperament, being bred from animals as servants. In any case, she could see how hard being dismissed would hit them. But why wouldn't the others help? She couldn't believe there was nothing anyone could do.
"There must be something, though," she insisted. "You have a whole community here. Don't you have a counsellor or something? Someone she could talk to to help her try to put herself back together? She's completely miserable, and you look like most of you are just ignoring her."
"Begging your pardon, Miss Hermione," said a very proper elf she remembered as Smidgen's mother, "but it is being embarrassing having an elf in our kitchens who won't work properly. House elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione cried. "Something needs to be done. If this goes on much longer, she's going to hang herself with that necktie." She fished in her pockets for five silver coins. "Here, Dobby, I'm buying out your salary for the next day. Clean her up; try to sober her up, and I want to have a private talk with her before we leave tomorrow, if she's up for it. Here's an extra two sickles if you need to buy anything for her, and I'll pay the difference tomorrow if it's not enough."
She became aware that the elves were staring at her again. Even Dobby looked a little surprised. The rest looked shocked or even scandalised that she would do such a thing, it was so far outside their experience. A few of them had the decency to look uncomfortable—not quite shamed; they hadn't quite got that far. George and Fred weren't surprised with her, but they might have been surprised at the entire show.
Sonya stared at the bundle on the floor where Winky slept under the tablecloth. The young elf's mind was spinning its proverbial wheels trying to process this. Sonya knew Miss Hermione was eccentric, even by wizard standards. She would never have been friends with an elf otherwise. And Sonya pushed the envelope more than most elves, but she had too many prejudices from the way she was raised to fully comprehend why an outcast such as Winky would stir her best human friend up to do something like this. Sonya had felt uncomfortable about Winky herself, but she just thought that was the way the world worked.
"Dobby will help Winky, Miss Hermione," Dobby said. Still, none of the other elves spoke.
"I think you broke them," Fred told Hermione with a grin. They both knew it wasn't that funny, though.
"I had to do something," Hermione mumbled. A little louder, she told the elves, "In the muggle world, when someone has a nervous breakdown, like Winky, or any other bad emotional problem, we don't just pass them by. We try to help them. And if they've been hurt so bad it seems hopeless, we try all the more. We're not perfect, but we never turn anyone away just because they're unpopular or an embarrassment."
Some of the elves actually did start to look ashamed and started murmuring to each other. Good; they were starting to get it. It was disturbing, though predictable, that even house elves had their prejudices.
Dobby tried to haul Winky to her feet and drag her from the kitchen, but it was clearly awkward for him.
"Sonya will help Dobby!"
A ripple of squeaks filled the kitchen as the younger elf broke ranks. There were unkind whispers containing her name, but tellingly, her grandmother, Tilly, didn't say anything.
"I will help Dobby while I is on breaks," she repeated. They each put one of Winky's arms over their slim shoulders and were able to carry her properly.
"Thank you, Sonya," Hermione said. "I really appreciate it."
Sonya smiled at her as they kept walking to the exit.
The Twins didn't seem to know what to say. They'd never seen anything like that with the elves before. All George could say was, "Wow…"
Fred managed a little more: "Never a dull moment with you around, eh, Hermione?"
Dobby told Hermione she could go up to the Room of Requirement the next morning to see Winky. This was after a quick trip to the library, though, for her, looking for any information elf psychology. When she arrived, Dobby and Sonya both looked very tired.
"How is she?" Hermione asked.
"It is being very hard for her, Miss Hermione," Dobby said. "Winky did not take to your help well. Dobby thinks she has not been awake and sober at the same time for months, miss."
"We hads to watch her when she woke up, miss," Sonya squeaked with a yawn. "She ran out of the Room and tried to jump out a seventh-floor window."
"Goodness! Where is she now?"
The elves pointed her out. Winky was wearing a clean tea towel, now, and she'd been given a bath—forcibly, by the look of it, if the signs of aggressive scrubbing were any indication. Her large, brown eyes were bloodshot, and she sat on a stool, rubbing her head.
"Hello, Winky," Hermione said.
Winky moaned piteously. "Miss Hermione Granger?"
"Yes, it's me. How are you feeling?"
"Winky is feeling very badly, miss…" She trailed off with a whimper.
Hermione sighed. She hated to see her like this, especially when she was treated so poorly in the first place. "Did you give her anything for her hangover?" she asked Dobby.
Dobby's eyes grew wider than usual. "I gave her a headache potion and orange juice, miss," he said. "There is not being any other potions for hangovers."
"Really? Huh, some things are the same in any world, I guess. Winky, are you feeling well enough to talk with me a little?"
Winky didn't answer.
"I'd like to help you if I can."
She began sniffling. "Winky does not deserve help," she whined softly. "Winky is a bad elf."
"No, you're not—" Hermione insisted.
"Yes, Winky is! Winky was dismissed by her Master, and now, Winky has ruined Master's…" She held up the ruined necktie, clutching it in her hands, and burst into sobs.
"Winky…Winky, please…" Hermione tried, but she couldn't get through to her at all. House elf psychology, remember? "Winky! Look at me!" she snapped, trying to sound cross. Winky's head snapped up at once, and she gave Hermione her full attention. She was still conditioned to follow commands. The library had had precious little about house elves, period. The best resource she had found was a small book on how to treat them to make them "efficient and effective" servants. "Focus on me," she ordered. It didn't feel quite natural, acting that impolite, but Hermione managed it. "Good. Now…do you remember who your master is, now? Your legal master, I mean?"
Winky sniffled some more and said, "It is…it is being P-P-Professor D-Dumbledore, miss."
"Yes, he is." Hermione knelt down in front of her slowly, hoping to communicate her compassion in her body language more than in her tone. "He bound you to the school fair and square. He understood like I do that you were dismissed unfairly. And in my opinion, Professor Dumbledore is a much better master than Mr. Crouch."
"EEP! Miss Hermione Granger cannot be insulting Winky's—"
"Stop!" Winky's mouth snapped shut. "You know better than that," Hermione said. "I know you're not ready to say that yet, so I have to say it for you. You have a new home, now, and a better one, if you let it be. But you don't need this anymore. It's only hurting you." She slowly reached out and took hold of Mr. Crouch's necktie. Winky whimpered and clutched it tighter, but Hermione gently peeled her hands off of it and slowly unwrapped it from around her neck. She had read that house elves sometimes have trouble adjusting to new masters, and it was important to get rid of all influences from their old master. They were also used to having things just decided for them. Based on Dobby and Sonya, she wasn't convinced that was an innate trait of elf psychology, but Winky clearly wasn't ready to take control of her own life yet.
So Hermione did something she would never do with a muggle in that state. She drew her wand, tossed the tie into the air, and Incendioed it before it hit the ground. Granted, that was a bit impulsive. She surprised herself a little with her aim.
Winky squealed in horror and ran to it, but Hermione wrapped her arms around the elf and turned her face away from the sight. Looking back herself, Hermione saw Dobby and Sonya both giving her worried looks.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she told them. "I didn't know what else to do, and the book said that might help her."
It took a few minutes for Winky to calm down enough for Hermione to talk to her again. Hermione prayed she hadn't ruined everything. She kept going: "Winky, I don't know much about muggle psychology, and even if I did, elves don't seem to function the same way we do, and besides, I'm not going to be around here much. I can only take a guess that what you need is to start working again, and to have someone you can trust to talk to about your problems. You probably don't want to impose on anyone, but—"
"Excuse me, miss," Sonya interrupted. "Sonya can try to help Winky, miss."
Hermione stared at the younger elf in surprise: "You will? You don't have to—"
"Begging your pardon, Miss Hermione, but I sees it is very important to yous, miss. And I is not wanting Winky hurt either. Sonya's grandmum might help, too."
"Well, that's very good of you, Sonya. Thank you. Winky, can you try to talk to Sonya and Tilly when you're having a hard time?"
"I…I guess Winky can be trying, miss."
"Good. And will you stay off the Butterbeer from now on?"
Winky balked at the suggestion.
"I was afraid of that. Sonya, can you try to keep her off the Butterbeer?"
"Yes, Miss Hermione." Sonya nodded perhaps a little too eagerly.
"Thank you. Well, if all goes well, I'll see you both in June. Good luck, Winky."
"Where does she get this stuff?" Hermione demanded.
It only took two days back at Beauxbatons before something else went wrong.
SECOND TASK SECRETS
KRUM ABANDONS OTHER HOSTAGES TO SAVE PARAMOUR
By Rita Skeeter
The Triwizard Champions had a perfect plan in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament to save the hostages who were taken from them. (The hostages were not in actual danger, but the champions were lead to believe they were, a move that calls the judgement of the Tournament organisers into serious question.) Planning from the clues they were given, they resolved to put aside the competition and save the hostages together to give them all the best chance. But one of the Champions, Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum, broke this covenant and betrayed his fellow Champions and their hostages, swimming away and leaving them to fend off the deadly strangler seaweed that was attacking them.
What triggered such a shocking betrayal? Your humble correspondent can only speculate. It is known that Mr. Krum's hostage, Padma Patil, an exotic Asian beauty, was his date for the Yule Ball. He has been openly smitten with her ever since, and has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays. He also insists he has "never felt this way about any other girl".
And yet, we must ask ourselves why Mr. Krum felt the need to betray his fellow champions when their hostages were no less important to them. After the surprise shake-up in Harry Potter's love life at the Yule Ball, the Boy-Who-Lived has spent much of his time with his new flame, Ginny Weasley. Cedric Diggory has an equally well-established relationship with Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour was sent to save her eight-year-old sister, Gabrielle. Is there more to Mr. Krum's and Miss Patil's relationship than it appears. Moreover, the other Champions had specifically agreed that working together was the best strategy, regardless of the stakes, as was also confirmed by Mr. Potter's ex-girlfriend, arithmancy-prodigy Hermione Granger.
Mr. Krum was the only Champion to receive full marks in the Second Task, and one must wonder if this decision was in error given his lack of moral fibre compared with his rivals.
Hermione had a lot of competing thoughts upon reading that article rivalling for attention, including, That was surprisingly accurate; also, I didn't know Krum and Padma were enough of an item for even Rita Skeeter to speculate like that; and Paramour? Padma must be having an awful time of it. I can't believe she would do that; and How the heck does that woman keep finding out this stuff? However as shocking as that was, it was the letter she received that won her attention:
Dear Hermione,
We swear we didn't tell the Prophet anything about what Krum did. Rita Skeeter must have found out about it from someone else. We didn't send any of the pictures you thought were "sensitive", but now everyone knows Krum abandoned the other champions anyway.
We sent the Prophet the pictures we picked out, but they wrote back and asked if we had one of Krum leaving the group. I get the feeling they don't want to buy the set without it—C. We could say no, ask for them back, and send them somewhere else, but we'd have to trust them to give them back and not print them, and there aren't any other publications in Britain with anywhere near the Prophet's circulation.
We wanted to ask if you thought it would be okay to send the Prophet that photo. (We still wouldn't send any others.) Everyone knows now, so it shouldn't do much harm, but since you took the photos, you have final control over them. I'm worried that under the circumstances, refusing to include it will be seen as journalistic bias—C. But it's your call.
In case you were wondering, Padma's having a lot of trouble already. A lot of Krum's fans are mad at her, and so are a lot of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, even though she didn't do anything. Harry told them to leave her alone, but it's not working very well. She admitted it was true that Krum invited her to Bulgaria, but only the two of them and Parvati knew that. She has no idea how Rita Skeeter found out.
Your friends,
Colin and Dennis Creevey
"I don't understand how she keeps snooping on people," Hermione said to no one in particular. "First it was me and George. Then it was me again at the Task—I don't think there was anyone who would go to the press there—and now Krum and Padma. She's not even supposed to be on the grounds. Dumbledore banned her. How could she know those things?"
"Maybe she's bugging people," suggested Philippe, the muggle-born first-year who frequently ate at her table.
"No, electronics don't work at Hogwarts," she said offhandedly.
"Er…bugging? Put fleas on them or something?" several of her magical-raised friends wanted to know.
"Planting small devices that let one eavesdrop on conversations. Muggle spies do it all the time."
"Oh. So, what are you going to do about the photos?"
Hermione sighed: "I'm not sure. Colin does have a point. The damage is done, and from a journalistic standpoint, we really should probably include it. But mon Dieu, I've already got hate mail because of her, and I'm sure Padma will, now, too. I swear, if I ever find out she's doing something illegal to find out these things, she won't know what hit her."
Her friends stared with her, surprised at the ferocity on her face. With all the hexes Hermione was inventing, she was probably right. "You know, you're scary sometimes, Hermione?" Hildegarde told her. "Brilliant, but scary."