Loyal Friends and Steadfast Companions

It was the first time a group of house elves came into The Three Broomsticks as customers. And Harry was determined that, though it was the first time, it would be far from the last.

The hard-working elves had been toiling for days in the aftermath of the battle, helping to clean up the castle and grounds as well as host the subsequent memorial services. They were quite glad to stay busy; as long as there was work to be done, there was no time to be sad.

But that afternoon, after the last of the sniffling visitors left through Hogwarts' front gate, Harry Potter marched down to the kitchens.

"Hey, um, everybody," he said as dozens of devoted elves scurried to greet him.

"Mister Harry Potter Sir!" squeaked a young elf. "What can we's be doing for you, sir?"

Another elf piped up. "Would the great Harry Potter like some pudding? Some snacksies?"

"Uh, that's really alright," he grimaced, tugging at his uncomfortable collar. "I actually came down here to thank you guys for all your help over the past few weeks."

"We does not need thanks, Mister Harry Potter Sir. We elves is just doing our jobs, we is," a heavily wrinkled elf reassured him.

Harry shook his head. "No, you've done far more than just your jobs. Your loyalty to the school, the faculty, and the students has been astounding. Cleaning up the mess from the, uh, the fight, would have been a hundred times more difficult without your help, and you all put so much effort into those funerals so that we would have time to grieve for our friends. I just feel bad that you haven't had the chance to, um, do the same."

An awed hush fell over the normally excitable elves. Winky, who had somehow wormed her way to the front of the small crowd, reached up and grasped his hand.

"Dobby always said you was the bestest of all the wizards, Harry Potter Sir. You just keeps proving it to us again and again," she whispered, a tear rolling from her tennis ball-like eye.

Harry smiled. "I'm really not that great. But I would like to do something to show my appreciation for you lot."

"We doesn't need anything, Mister Harry Potter Sir, really," Winky promised.

"But I… well… What if this wasn't for you, specifically?" Harry asked. He was met with blank stares and tilted heads.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "What I mean is, uh, maybe we could all do something in honor of all the house elves and friends who, uh, died?"

Harry hadn't thought it was possible for their eyes to grow wider, but they proved him wrong.

"Mister Harry Potter Sir is too kind," sniffled a watery voice.

"But where would we's go?" squeaked an elf in the back.

Winky looked up pleadingly at Harry. "If it's not too much to ask, Harry Potter Sir, Winky thinks that it might be nice to visit somewhere D-Dobby always wanted to go with his Harry Potter."

"Sounds like a grand idea," Harry promised. "Where are we headed, Winky?"

"The Three Broomsticks," she grinned.

Harry felt a bit like the Pied Piper as he led a small troupe of elves down the short road to Hogsmeade. He wasn't really thinking about the implications of taking house elves to the Three Broomsticks; he was simply headed to have a butterbeer with his friends. He threw open the door and ushered them inside.

Madam Rosmerta's greeting died on her lips as she saw the veritable tribe of elves headed for the largest table in her pub. She threw up her hands, muttering something about banning Harry Potter and his antics from all of Hogsmeade.

Said wizard approached the bar and ordered thirty-two half pints of butterbeer, gesturing toward the host of pointed faces watching him with adoration.

With a wave of her wand, Rosmerta got started on the order. "And for you?" she asked, levitating the half-sized glasses over to the table.

"Oh, I included myself in the order," Harry said simply, sliding several coins across the bar before striding back to his seat at the head of the gathering.

As the group chatted, all the elves trying to catch the attention of the Great Harry Potter, an atmosphere of discontent grew around the bar.

"Well, I never," muttered a wrinkled witch to her companion.

"I agree, Agnes. I've never seen elves, act with such… selfishness. Really, they ought to be back at the castle serving those poor teachers," the other old woman agreed.

At her criticism, Harry's back stiffened. Winky reached out and placed a calming hand on his tense wrist.

"Who do they think they are, walking in here and eating in a pub like they're humans or something? They belong back in the kitchens, actually working," Agnes sniffed.

Harry stood and angrily turned on the aged witch. "Madam, I'll have you know that these elves are exactly where they belong. They've worked harder than any witch or wizard at Hogwarts, and that's before, during, and after the war. Without their help, we never would have defeated Voldemort."

The rest of the half-filled pub gasped, and Harry turned his impassioned speech on them. "It's nothing but the 're just as brave and smart and resourceful as any of the rest of us, and they deserve to be treated that way. And honestly, wizards take them completely for granted. These elves spent weeks helping us mourn our losses, so I asked them all to come with me to honor those of the elves that died over the course of the war. Or," he finished, smiling at his friends, "anyone else for that matter. This is about who you all choose to honor."

When none of the elves moved to say anything in response, Harry forged ahead. He lifted his tiny glass into the air. "Here's to Dobby. He died a free elf, but he was the bravest, most loyal friend I've ever had."

Harry could read the struggle on Winky's face as she decided to stand and hoist her glass above her head. "To Kreacher. Kreacher wasn't always a good elf, but he died with honor and beings loyal to his master, without havings been told to," she said timidly. Harry nodded his encouragement.

"To Flip's daughter, Rooky," came a soft yet strong voice from down the table. "Rooky was a smart elf, she was, and a very good elf. Rooky saved her master's children from the bad mens in the masks and tried to save her masters too," he finished with a sob.

Rosmerta cleared her throat. "To Waffle, my dear old friend and the best damn cook in Hogsmeade. Bloody Death Eaters took him away from me far too soon," she said thickly.

"To my old pal, Cinch," said a gruff looking wizard with a tear on his cheek. "Best listener I've ever seen, and the best secret keeper to boot. Miss that old fella."

Toasts started pouring forth, and nearly everyone in the bar honored an elf from their lives, even Agnes and her friend. After half an hour, all honors seemed to have been paid, so Harry stood and raised his glass to the elves again.

"Here's to house elves, our loyal friends and steadfast companions. May we all aspire to your kindness, devotion, work ethic, and friendship. Wizarding kind owes you a debt of gratitude that we can never hope to repay."

Cheers echoed through the pub, and Harry and the elves celebrated long into the night.

Written for The Houses Competition

Hufflepuff, Year 1- Standard

Prompt: [First Line] It was the first time a group of house elves came into The Three Broomsticks as customers.

Additional: House trait- Hufflepuff- Loyalty

WC: 1264