This chapter got removed from Through the Fire as the story already ran very long. Although I loved writing this chapter and really wanted to include it in the main story, it ultimately felt just too one-off and added almost nine thousand more words to the story. Fortunately, this piece really sort of works as a short story. It is too good, in my opinion, to simply toss in the trash bin.
Enjoy!
The magicked calendar reminded the young wizard he needed to attend to another matter for a special event that would arrive sooner rather than later. Dennis came to the conclusion he truly did not know much of elvish history as Professor Binns only taught about the Elf Revolt of 622 ce, the point at which elves entered into forced servitude to human witches and wizards. Although it felt he spent far too much time in libraries, his itch to understand what he might face on Gladdening Day overwhelmed him. Thus, the day after he learned about The Tree of Life spell from Madame Pince, Dennis adjusted his already packed schedule to make yet another foray into the dank, dark recess of the York Library Annex. With only nine days left before Grandiola's special day, the wizard planned on the fastest research of his life.
As a seasoned veteran of the Ministry of Magic York Library Annex, conveniently located under an old rail yard, the wizard knew how to prepare. He first cleaned out his magicked backpack to remove the detritus from Scotland. Within he found a gyromander that somehow sneaked into his pack. It took the wizard nearly an hour to catch the creature that would spin and whirl at frightening speeds into order to avoid capture. The hard protrusions around it's small head would act like a minuscule circular saw blade while it spun. Dennis tangled with them before, but even his heavy leather work gloves got torn to shreds as he pursued the creature. One spin lacerated down to his flesh, and the nasty gash freely bled until he transferred the ornery amphibian into a glass bowl. He left a note on top of it telling his parents to never set it free or touch it. He planned on returning it to wilds of Scotland.
He brought enough food (a week's worth), enough water (two week's worth), extra clothing (three days of changes), his broom (a gently used Cleansweep Eleven he bought a reasonable price), and his calendar, map book, and notebooks. Although he planned to stay only five or six hours in the annex, Dennis heard the stories about those who got trapped for days on end in the poorly lit labyrinth of a library. Although he never spent a complete night in the underground building, he got close enough to midnight to realize the foolishness of crossing the witching hour in the place. For that reason, he included his small, armored pup tent, also magicked within an inch of its existence, to keep him safe should he lose track of time. His backpack felt as if it held less than a single kilo of weight regardless of the over one hundred that actually got stuffed inside. The water alone came in at fifty kilos.
"Off to the library again?" His mother queried from where stood making supper in the kitchen.
Dennis passed through to grab something to much on. He ate a large lunch as preparation for his trip to the York Annex. He nodded is head while liberating two apples and a banana from a basked on the counter. His parents learned to discern his destinations based on the clothing he wore. Since he did not dress for camping or hiking, and neither did he wear his Rapid Removal coveralls, his normal street clothes and backpack acted as a tell-tale sign he planned to be indoors somewhere.
"Going to York," he told her as he crammed the fruit to his pant's pockets.
"Want me to leave you a plate in the hob?" Jill Creevey inquired.
"Don't know how long I'm going to be, so best put it in the fridge, Mum," he instructed before he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Ooh, it's that place your not fond of much."
"How would you know?"
His mother continued to stir what appeared to be gravy, and the wizard of the family thought she made meatloaf. She dressed in comfortable jeans with one of the loud print blouses she loved. Jill Creevey, with her semi-bouffant hairdo, would never get confused for a witch.
"'Cause that kiss felt like you're telling me you're going into battle," she muttered.
Her use of that analogy told Dennis his father did not return from the dairy. Moreover, the television did not blare at a high volume. Neither of his parents suffered from hearing loss, yet they always listened to the telly at absurdly high volumes.
"Is it really that different?" He pressed for an explanation.
"It is when it comes to that library. Not much scares you, Denny, but something 'bout that library puts you on edge," she told him. "What bits are you after this time?"
"Learning about the elf history… and 'specially about the old Marking Day practice."
Jill turned and stared at her son.
"It's how the elves got bound into serving a single family," the wizard elaborated.
"Like slavery?" His mother flatly asked.
"A lot like slavery, but that's over now. Elves are more or less free, and they get paid for their service, Mum. I heard some witches and wizards call it highway robbery and break down of tradition."
The kitchen felt warm, and the oven made a familiar humming sound. Dennis' father, Duncan, called out a service man three times to examine the appliance, but they never discovered the cause and it did not affect the functioning. Dennis suspected he might be cause, so he tended to avoid kitchen when any of the more costly appliances got used. He spent enough galleons replacing the television set when his magic broke it.
"You stay away from those people, Denny. Hear me?" Jill admonished her son.
"Yes, Mum. I know. I do anyway since most of 'em work for the Ministry," Dennis rejoined.
"Don't go mucking around with that lot again. They might burn your father and me at the stake."
She fixed him with such a hard stare it came across as a either a prediction or a threat, and perhaps both. He nodded his head. The topic of Cameron Vall always rested just below the surface whenever the Creevey family talked about the Ministry. In the same vein, the subject of Hogwarts raised the specter of Colin's death. The two separate tragedies returned his father to complete distrust of magic and magic practitioners, save his son.
"That, um, is what they used to do to witches," he carefully corrected her.
"Well, your kind seems to turn everything on its head, and I'm not talking about gay folk!" His mother nearly railed at him.
"Yes, Mum," he dutifully said while keeping the smirk that wanted to take over his face at bay.
"So, what's this about elves and this… whatever it is… that's happening?"
Dennis stepped back,leaned against the counter, and told his mother about the new tradition of Gladdening Day when an elf babe reached thirty-one days of age. At that point, Dennis openly speculated it meant the infant would likely see childhood and the loved ones could celebrate the new addition to the family. It mirrored some old magi and muggle practices of yore when infant mortality rates ran very high. As he made the comparison, it started the young wizard's brain percolating.
"Wait? Which elf is this? I swear you know every one of them who works there," his mother interrupted and interjected.
"Chet… the lift operator," he stated.
"The one with a bit of a wonky nose and – let's be honest – very big teeth? The one who growls at the riders?"
Jill gesticulated with the spatula she used to mix the gravy, and drops of the liquid flew to the left and right. She did not seem not notice, yet the woman could spot a smidgen of spilled jam on the counter from Leeds. He watched the drops land in various places, but she did not bat an eye at that.
"That's the one, Mum."
"He does seem awfully fond of you… or so you tell me. Hard to say with them. They don't seem to like us much."
"Would you like the people who kept you as a slave even if they didn't call it that?" He countered.
"I suppose not. Well, it seems them asking you to attend this Gladdening Day means you're in pretty tight with them," Jill said and did not wait for answer. "Here you are going from royalty to the regular folk without a hitch. Not sure many of your kind can do that."
"Which ones? Magi or gay?" He asked and barely concealed his grin.
"Oh, you're being difficult for the fun of it," his mother snapped at him, but he heard humor in her tone as well. Then her face took on a quizzical vestige. "I supposed it could be both or either, Denny. Although you never really hear if royalty is part of that other team of yours."
"They say Edward Longshanks' son was a bit of a nancy boy."
"Language, Dennis!"
"What'd I say?" He barked at her chastisement.
"Talking about your kind like that. I thought you'd be a more sensitive to what gets said… and you shouldn't be calling your folk that name," she said in a curt manner.
Dennis shook his head. He took two steps forward, leaned toward her, and kissed his mother on the forehead. When he leaned back, she pursed her lips at them.
"You know I'm right," she mumbled at him.
"I'm probably going to be back late tonight," Dennis informed her without addressing her verdict.
"Leftovers will be in the fridge."
"Thanks, Mum," Dennis said.
With that he folded into the nether as he made his way to the London apparation station. Dennis thought he could hear his mother gasp in surprise. She professed to dislike it when he either disapparated or apparated in front of her or anywhere she could see him. Yet after years of witnessing one of the most basic forms of magic for the magi, Dennis began to think she complained to simply hear herself say it. He started chuckling by the time he got to London.
The use of apparation stations meant it only took him two jumps to get to York, and then a small one to get to the York Library Annex once he sent notice he intended to travel there. Anyone who failed to notify the establishment of their intention to apparate into the building would get bounced to Manchester, and not a very nice part of the city. Thus, less than a minute after bidding his mother good-bye, which he did not actually do, Dennis stepped into slightly frightening main portion near the circulation desk.
Although the small red button set in a golden escutcheon seemed to urge him to press it, Dennis resisted pressing the call button. He did it once when he first visited the Annex, and regretted it ever since. Moreover, he would heap approbation on anyone else who pressed the button as it set off a loud gong that reverberated with such strength it could knock books off shelves half a kilometer into the dark depths of the library. The curators and docents hated the service call bell, but he heard their collective attempts to disable the button failed each and every time.
Dennis retrieved his broom from the backpack. The brooms provided by the library proved something of a joke as they did not function very well. Most passed into an age wherein the magic that operated them seriously faded. Only the rare library broom could hover more than two feet off the floor and travel faster than a walk. It seemed a fairly good bet the employees of the library found it amusing to see a witch or wizard clinging to a broom while their knees scraped the floor and made tortoises appear speedy. Dennis climbed aboard his Cleansweep and zoomed off down the main aisle. He more or less remembered where the section on magical species got stationed, and he aimed for it.
When Dennis attended a muggle primary school in his youth, he knew a girl afflicted with Tourette Syndrome. She would uncontrollably spout nonsense words, make noises, or actually swear depending on her nervous state. The more she tried to control it, the worse the episode got. After a few weeks, he got used to hearing the strange utterances, as did all his classmates, and the number of instances got drastically reduced. She still carried out odd tics with her head and one hand, but even that became more or less invisible to everyone. Dennis got reminded of the girl when he tried to comprehend the layout of the library. It seemed to be designed by someone with Tourettes because sections started and stopped at irregular intervals without any logical reason. The classification system seemed broken by design. Thus, Dennis often resorted to the Revelio spell in order to get even closer to his desire reference section.
A little over three hours later Dennis sat surrounded by books where he sat on the floor and felt like he wanted to vomit. The magi community instigated the Elf Revolt of 622 in the common era by encroaching on elvish territorial lands. The lands happened to team with magical fauna and flora desired by the magi. When the elves tried to defend their homes, the magi went to war with them. Eight years of protracted warfare saw the defeat of the elves. It became a battle of attrition and numbers. Because the magi became incensed the elves would dare defy them, the real horror show began. Firstly, the human magi cast an all-encompassing transformation spell on the once beautiful, lithe and spritely elves. They shrank and turned into malformed versions of their former stately countenance. Then, to add further to the punishment, the humans made the elves take part in the rituals that would enslave them. The elves seemed to know they would face extinction if they did not.
Dennis used a translation spell on an ancient volume written ostensibly in old Welsh. The passage outlined how the elves got forced into servitude:
"These creatures, made miserable by their own greed and impudence, did come in defeat before the Dewin clad in the simple garments of their kind. This they would strip from their bodies to stand naked before their masters, man and woman and elf alike. The elf would then kneel upon cold stone, lift up arms, and say:
'I who have offended you do give to you all I am to be servile and to attend to your needs. In mind and body I will serve you from this day hence until the line of my blood is no more. Let my descendants be yours to call you master and mistress, and may we ever be humbled before you for our unfaithful ways. This I offer to you freely and with my own intent.'
The elf then would be given a mean piece of cloth by which to hide their nakedness. It served as a symbol of their lowly state and their bondage to a family. In this way they would depend on the Dewin to see after even their base needs. Yet from that day forward the elf would wear naught by the garment first given to them. They would reject any clothing from any other Dewin save that of their master, and then such a gift would could sever their bonds if presented as such. They would become adrift and despised by all others, Dewin and elf alike.
The elf who will not speak the oath is not to be trusted, but instead hunted and destroyed with all haste lest they foment further rebellion. Those that seek to undo the magics that reveal their true bodily design shall be executed at once as the old glamour of the elves still resides in their form. Let the elves never forget the treachery they enacted upon the Dewin."
The words rang through his mind with the same potency as the name of the Opprima Anima spell. It galled him beyond measure. The young wizard sat on the floor dumbfounded, stupefied, by what he learned. He wondered if Hermione Granger-Weasley knew this piece of history that never seemed to get taught anywhere. Wizards, humanity in general he assumed, did not like to owe up to the nefarious acts they carried out for the own self-interest. They would try to cloak their evil deeds with seeming good intentions. Dennis realized Lord Voldemort simply lived up to the long tradition in magi world. It seemed ages before the young forced himself to move. The new knowledge and the thoughts it engendered froze him to the floor. Once free of the lethargy, Dennis proceeded to copy every bit of the tortured history he learned.
"My word," Hermione gasped the next day when Dennis stopped by her office and delivered to her copies of the history he learned. "I never… imagined."
"I know you're concerned for elvish welfare, and I thought you deserved to at least know some of the truth," he coldly rejoined as he stared at the sheets of parchment he placed on her desk. "Did you know a spell won't work on an elf unless they take part in it?"
Hermione shook her head back and forth.
"What got done to me and Cam… it's nothing compared to this. Hermione… fourteen centuries…"
"I know, Dennis. I just read it," she said in equal disgust.
"I'm sending this all to Luna…"
"Dennis!"
Hermione's head snapped up and she glared at him.
"Still afraid of the truth getting out?" He burped the accusation at her.
"What good will this do?" She challenged.
"We need to know what we've done in the past. How the hell can we stop ourselves from doing it again if we don't know? What kind of fucking world do you want to live in, Hermione?"
His words burned through the air like acid through flesh. Hermione winced as she gazed at him. He met her eyes without an ounce of sympathy.
"We hide so much of the… the shit we've done. Why? So we won't feel guilty? Who the hell does that serve? It's like when McGonagall got me to shut up about the way the other guys were treating me. She didn't want them to feel or look bad. Never once gave a damn about me!"
"That was wrong, Dennis, and I've told you that before, but you know she was trying to rebuild Hogwarts at the same time," the deputy minister stated.
The inside of her office got crammed with filing cabinets and bookshelves overflowing with the minutia regarding Ministry Home Office operations. While the vast majority of Ministry employees twaddled away their time, Hermione Granger-Weasley actually worked like a mine mule. Dennis did not like the fact his relationship with the woman soured over the past year, yet she tried to defend the indefensible.
"Yeah, I guess it's okay if Hogwarts get built on top of broken students. What do their lives matter compared to the building?" He caustically intoned. "Shame, really, I didn't die with Colin. It'd make things so much easier…"
"Dennis Creevey, that is not fair!" Hermione yelled at him.
"Sure, what's fair is fair," Dennis bitterly replied and turned to leave.
"Dennis!" She pleaded with his name.
Dennis ignored her and departed from her office. It galled him to think she could accept such actions and consequences as serving the general good. He recalled his father saying one could not make a cheese with bad milk. He never understood the phrase until after the Battle of Hogwarts. The former Deatheaters tried to recast their role in the Second Voldemort war to make themselves a victim rather than a victimizer. He stomped through open offices on his way to the lifts while he tried to calm.
"Howdy, Dennis," Orweatha said to him in as pleasant of a manner as elves would display.
"Oy, Orwy," he responded in the sing-song fashion he adopted with her since she found it amusing.
"Floor?"
"Apparation platform… lobby, I guess."
"What's slithering up your pant leg?" She asked while slamming the gate closed in the face of a witch who rushed to get onto the lift.
Orweatha looked almost indistinguishable from the other elves who worked for the Ministry. They all wore the same green or red velvet uniforms bedecked with gold piping along the seams and gold buttons on their pants and vests. It took Dennis almost a year and a half to realize the Ministry purposefully dressed them to resemble Father Christmas' helpers. Every elf he knew hated the uniforms, and those who worked in maintenance felt lucky they got to wear the bland blue coveralls. Her large, acorn-colored eyes regarded him from where they rested above the ski-slope of a nose.
"I'm so sick of people… magi… humans making excuses for every bad thing they do. Most of 'em want to believe they shit gold, Orwy, and… I'm so tired of it," he lamented as the cabin shook while it raised upward.
"Is it better to know or not know?" She queried.
"Always better, I think."
"Then stick with it and see it through. Always took you for one who didn't shy away from what anything really is."
"You have no idea how much that means to me right now, so thanks. Really, thank you, Orwy," Dennis sincerely stated as the lift car shuddered in an unhealthy manner during the ride.
"Wish half you birches meant it like you mean it," the barely meter high woman responded, and used one of the favorite elf slang terms for humans.
"So, do I. I really do."
Orweatha eyed him as the lift came to a shuddering halt on his requested floor. She reached for the latch to open the door, but halted. She continued to eye him.
"Word is you're going to the Gladdening Day for Chet's girl?" Orweatha inquired.
"Wouldn't miss it for anything. Can't wait to meet Grandiola and see Neddy again. I've missed her," he said and suddenly felt better.
The elf woman flashed him a quick smile. Dennis felt even better for that. The nodded to each other. Then Orweatha threw the gate open.
"You're a good one, Creevey," she quietly stated as he walked off.
"You, too," he sincerely stated.
With that he departed the lift and headed for the apparation platform.
Throughout the eight days before the Gladdening Day ceremony, or whatever the elves did in lieu of what the day it replaced, Dennis tried to find a way to truly do honor to his elf friends. Time and again he read and re-read the history of the bondage of the elves. He wondered if Chet invited him to the celebration in order to show one magi managed a change of heart. The wizard dismissed the notion because he knew Chet, and likely at Nedwina's insistence, invited him out of friendship. For almost three years Dennis took pleasure in getting to know the elves who worked at the Ministry, and found then a high cut above the rest of magi who labored there.
As he labored to understand how the Roman magi could justify his actions in creating the Heptagons, Dennis began to make comparisons between the Druids and the elves. Both got oppressed by the foreign invaders using very similar magics with very similar intentions. Greed seemed to motivate the human magic users. However, he did not want to simply highlight the atavistic nature of humans. The young wizard wanted to show he understood the plight of the elves over the centuries. Like the Druids and elves, he also understood unjust oppression at the hands of magi stronger than him. He thought of how his resistance to the demands of the Ministry lead to heartache and personal misfortune. Within the unity Dennis discovered with the elves, a plan began to take shape that would exemplify his empathy, sympathy, and understanding. He also knew what he began to consider might also be viewed as highly offensive. Regardless, Dennis plunged ahead.
In the early morning of the special, Dennis met Chet at the apparation station at the Ministry with his backpack slung over one shoulder. The elf stood talking to the younger platform attendant, Myrna, and he seemed almost relaxed. She dressed in a fashion that marked her as younger witch. The muggle world called it Goth, but the magi world labeled the style of dress as Middle Teutonic. Chet almost looked like a human muggle in his basic attire. Dennis approached the two.
"Good. On time," Chet said as he wheeled around when the clomp of Dennis' shoes reverberated in the air. Then he turned back to the attendant. "I'll talk to the maintenance supervisor 'bout the locker situation. You need to report the theft to security."
"I already did," the woman, perhaps no more than three or four years older than Dennis, droned. Then she looked at him. "Hey, Denny."
"I know some people in the Auror's Office, and I'll send one to talk to you," Dennis offered as he figured Chet spoke in greater detail for him to hear.
"It's not that important. Just my lunch," the woman intoned.
Around them wizards and witches milled about heading toward unknown destinations in the mostly vacate building. On a Saturday, very few people went to the Ministry unless they drew a weekend work schedule. The lobby sounded oddly empty and noises echoed in unusual ways. Despite his desire to vacate the Ministry post haste, Dennis also considered the station attendant's troubles.
"Some days I'd kill for a ham and Swiss sandwich, and it is important, Myrna. Don't ever take this lying down or let anyone tell you not to bother with it. Make as much noise as you can."
"He'd know," Chet added and jerked a thumb toward Dennis.
Dennis smirked at his short friend.
"Right, right. Thanks, Denny," Myrna said and appeared resigned to accepting their assistance. "Thanks, Chet."
"Be good," Chet said to her, and swiveled his head around. "Ready, Dennis?"
Dennis nodded. Chet reached over and grabbed his arm. Although nearly the same in effect, the young wizard never side-disapparated with anyone who commanded the process with such power. They did not turn and twist in the ether between here and there as often happened when he disapparated. Moreover, the elf magic felt different on his skin. Given the reading he completed over the past nine days, it made him wonder how the magi managed to defeat the elves in 622. He only formed half a question when they appeared inside a dense copse of wood. It did not take a genius to see the small patch upon which they stood got cleared for that purpose.
"Whoa," Dennis muttered as he wobbled a bit. "You got a good hand at that, Chet."
"Who do you think taught it to your people?" Chet grumbled at him.
Dennis nodded. Chet then began to walk through the woods. Dennis needed to stoop to get under branches in order to follow along. They soon came to a rather large oak tree. Dennis watched as his friend placed his hand on the tree trunk. A thin and nearly invisible silver line appeared. It expanded into an arched opening about two-thirds Dennis' height. Beyond the opening the young wizard saw a set of stairs.
"Sorry 'bout this, Dennis, but you're going to need to walk on your knees from here on out," the elf informed him.
"Wasn't made for humans, so not a problem," he responded and lowered himself to his knees.
Chet clapped him on the shoulder and gave what appeared to be a slightly apologetic smile. The small humanoid then entered and began to descend. Dennis needed to brace himself against the walls of the stairwell in order to navigate the downward trip. After fifteen or so steps, the two entered a wide circular room half filled with elves. Dennis recognized most of them as Ministry employees, and more than one greeted him with a smile. One elf in particular detached herself from a group and approached him with her hands held out. Dennis took the offered appendages in his own, and once more felt the unusually potent elf magic.
"Thank you for coming, Dennis," Nedwina said in a quiet voice.
"I would miss this for anything, Neddy, and I've missed seeing you at the Ministry," he told her.
A surge of magical power shot up his arms and made his skin tingle. Dennis guessed it served as a form of elf hug. He felt awed by the display.
"Chet kept me up to date on how the pregnancy went, and I thought about you a lot the whole time," Dennis added.
Nedwina smiled at him. Unlike her husband who looked like he wore dentures fashioned from the teeth of a horse, the elf's woman's smile looked dainty. Her teeth terminated in a series of sharp points. Dennis could not stop himself form trying to image what she would look like without the disfiguring blood magic applied to her. She slowly slid her hands from his, but her smile did not wain.
Dennis then spent a short while greeting the other guests and getting introduced to the few elves he did not know. They seemed wary of him, but also thrown off kilter at the way the others treated him. He learned the ones he did not know came from both Chet and Nedwina's family. From what he read, an assembly of this type got outlawed until the reforms enacted after the Second Voldemort War. It did not take him much to realize he got treated to a very privileged moment.
A cry emerged from a point deeper in the tree home. Nedwina disappeared. Silence settled over the gathering. The light from the chandeliers above their heads made it feel as though they stood in sunlight. Half a minute later Nedwina appeared carrying a child nearly as big as herself. In the back of his mind, he could not even begin to conceive of the pain the elf woman likely endured to give birth. However, Nedwina carried Grandiola with a firm grip. The child stopped bawling as when she saw the collection of people. Her large, very pale brown eyes swept over the group.
"And this is Grandiola," Nedwina said with evident joy and pride. "We've already started calling her Grandy, so feel free."
"By Barnaby, she's beautiful," Dennis said as he looked at the slightly ungainly form of the infant.
He heard a few snorts and a couple of choked off laughs. Even Nedwina eyed him with uncertainty. Dennis, however, only paid attention to the child. He never once saw an elf baby and marked the moment.
"Told you he said it," Chet murmured to his wife. "Not sure what he's looking at, but he means it, Neddy."
"I do," the wizard whispered. "You're glorious, Grandiola, and don't let anyone tell you different."
His reaction broke the ice. The elves began to crowd around Nedwina and the child. Dennis stood off to side since he gleaned the notion this became her first public showing. It confirmed the child lived. Chet sidled up to him.
"Neddy think you might've cracked your egg a bit while off on one of you adventures," the father and host told him.
"No," Dennis replied and looked at his friend. "Do you think I don't know how special this… and that you invited me to witness it? I am so honored, Chet."
Chet reached over and circled his fingers around Dennis' wrist. A wave of magic surged though him. He smiled even wider at his friend.
"Strangest wizard I ever knew," the elf man mumbled, but Dennis heard nothing but respect.
From there Grandiola got passed to her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and the other elves gathered for the day. Finally, Nedwina approached Dennis and held out the infant. Dennis floundered as he only ever held an infant twice in his life and not for a long time.
"Hold out your arms… like mine," Nedwina instructed him.
Dennis did, and then found an elf child deposited in his arms. He pulled her in close. He gazed down at Grandiola with his gray eyes while she looked up at him. The child seemed confused.
"I'm Dennis Creevey," he told her. "You can call me Denny if you want, and I am so happy to meet you, Grandiola. Your parents are some of my favorite people in the whole wide world."
Grandiola gurgled at him.
"Welcome to the world," Dennis whispered to her.
The wizard held the child for a few moments. He understood other activities would take place that involved the babe, she he handed Grandiola back to her mother. Nedwina stared at him.
"She's beautiful, Neddy. You did real good," he told the elf woman. "No magic can hide that."
Nedwina's eyes wend wide again. Dennis realized he cut a fine line in raising the specter of what got done to the elves, yet he felt she and Chet needed to know at least one wizard regretted the terrible history. Nedwina smiled at him again. Then she turned and went to where the high chair he got for the new child suddenly appeared in the middle of the main parlor. The mother set her child in the chair. The elves and lone human gathered in a semi-circle while the parents stood on either side of the babe who, true to elf nature, leaned down and started to gnaw on the brass edge of the tray.
"This is Grandiola, daughter of the Róvanúr line," Nedwina said in a solemn manner. "Galad -o i erui anor, Hén -o i erui ithil."
All of the elves bowed their heads while placing a hand on their heart. Dennis did the same even though he did not understand the ancient elvish tongue, but it seemed he needed to follow suit. A hand tugged at his sleeve. Dennis glanced down at Morton, one of the custodial elves from the ministry. He leaned to one side.
"Means light of the first sun and child of the first moon," Morton translated for him. "She from an old line… like most of the survivors."
Dennis nodded and whispered his thanks.
"We called you here to witness the day when we now can say Grandiola is ours," Chet picked up the speech. "None can deny she lives as long as you all live. None can deny her freedom as we call to you to fight for her. Grandiola is free, and she will always be free!"
"Hen uireb!" The elves shouted in unison.
Morton tugged on his sleeve a second time and said: "Sort of means hers forever."
Dennis nodded.
"We ask you to give your heart to Grandiola so she may know this is a place of light and warmth in her life," Nedwina solemnly stated.
One by one the elves lined up to stand before the infant. They spoke in their native tongue. Dennis, as the only human in attendance, understood he would go last. Thus, he availed himself of a moment to grab his backpack and disappear into one of the side room. Elf tastes ran ridiculously high, and he admired the quality of the furnishing he saw. Once safely ensconced, he prepared himself. Dennis' nerves twanged given what he planned to do, and a small giggle escaped his lips. He steeled himself and stepped out into the parlor wearing his wizard robes and one other garment underneath. His beloved wand he clutched in his hand. Dennis went and stood behind the last three elves to make their vow to the girl. He rehearsed his carefully scripted speech.
Rumbles emerged when Dennis stood on his knees and shuffled forward to take his turn. The elves, including Chet and Nedwina, warily eyed him. The young wizard prepared to carry out what he thought to be one of the most important acts he could do for a friend.
"Grandiola," he said her name loudly. Then, to the astonishment of the elves, he pulled the robes from his body and stood clad only in pair of underwear. He carefully folded the garment and a placed them on the tray before the child. "These… the first robes I ever wore as wizard, I offer to you. I stand before you naked to show I hide nothing from you."
A gasp went through the assembled.
"I, Dennis Creevey, who cherished you before you were born, offer all I am to serve you in your times of need. In mind and body I will serve you from this day hence until my blood is no more. You are your own mistress, and I am humbled to kneel before you and offer my wand to your service."
Dennis placed his wand atop the folded robes sitting before the infant, and then he bowed his head.
"This I offer to you freely and with my own intent," he concluded.
He felt truly naked without his wand, but Dennis wanted to show the elves he meant every word he spoke. For over a week the history of what the magi did to the elves burned in his mind, and he could think of no other way to honor to the child. The wizard stayed on his knees, head averted, and waited.
"We accept your service, Wizard Creevey, for our daughter," Nedwina's voice carried over his head.
"You are now bound to her as friend and protector for all your days. May you forever be true to your words… my friend," Chet intoned.
Dennis experienced a wave of power wash over and through him. The elves began to chant in their language, and it thrummed with magic that felt as old as the mountains. His body quivered from the effect. The vow he made with Peeves moved to one side in his mind, and something he could not explain joined it. His body did not feel entirely his own.
"Human, do you understand the words you said?" An elderly elf asked.
Without raising his head because he knew something of the old Marking Day process, Dennis said: "I do, and I say again I do this of my own free will. I will do all I can to protect Grandiola from human magic as long as I live. My wand his hers."
A deep murmur ran through the assembled. A second wave of magic charged through him. His fingers and toes tingled so much it felt like they burned. It seemed clear he evoked a powerful magic with the elves. He did not doubt they bound him to Grandiola as much as he got bound to Peeves through the Unbreakable Vow. Tears slid down his face, and he did not know why.
"Dennis, stand," Nedwina all but commanded him.
The young human man raised his head and stood to his full height on his knees. All the elves faced him except Grandiola who now toyed with his wand. He could not stop the smile that edged across his mouth.
"This gift you've made to our daughter, you do know it is permanent?" Nedwina asked him.
"You know what I did with Peeves, so, yeah, I know this is forever," Dennis replied.
"The other birches aren't going to like this if they get wind of it," Dolida, one of the reception elves at the Ministry, stated.
"I don't care," the wizard said before anyone could respond. "There's no way I can make up for what got done to the elves, but I had to start somewhere. It's time witches and wizards started paying you back. I'll take down anyone who tries to make Grandiola feel bad as… as an elf and a person… and I don't care who it is."
"He means it," Chet muttered. "Strangest damn wizard I ever knew."
"Hush," his wife shot at him. "This is important, Chet. None of them ever done this for any of us before."
"Where'd you find this one?" The elf Dennis believed to be Chet's mother inquired.
Dennis got treated to a long conversation held in elvish. It rolled though the air like silver coins on a crystal floor. He could feel magic pop and spark as they spoke. Once more he could not figure out how the humans managed to subdue such a people. Around him elves of almost every age stared at him while they spoke. Dennis did not mean to make himself the center of attention. He meant to honor his friends, their daughter, and their people. Since he failed to use his translation spell, Dennis waited to find out what they decided.
"So, he really does mean it?" The elf named Horace, perhaps Nedwina's uncle, inquired in English with ample confusion.
"Near as I can tell," Chet answered. "Dennis doesn't make false promises. He's a secret keeper for a poltergeist at that magic school in Scotland. This one doesn't play by half."
It finally dawned on Dennis the elves all wore some article or piece of clothing made from a gray-blue cloth that shimmered with colors as though they stood in a forest. The symbolism hit him harder than what he did for Grandiola. It recalled their days when the elves got called the Ladies and Lords of the Green. He wondered how he missed that detail. Then again, he guessed they allowed him to see it once he got flooded with elf magic.
"Horace, you don't see him snatching his wand back from Grandy even if she is chewing on it," Nedwina told the elf man.
Dennis smirked when he saw the infant did, indeed, teethe on his wand with her full set of teeth. He did not care in the least if she left marks on the prized American red pine wood surrounding the dragon heartstring. He declared his wand hers to call upon in need, and apparently Grandiola needed to teethe.
"Hu… Dennis, what is this you're all about carrying out what sounded like the old Marking spell?" Horace asked him.
Dennis turned to the man and said: "I know what it's like being… oppressed, I suppose, but nothing like the elves have gone through. I want Grandiola to know there's at least one human… one magi who'll defend her instead of raising a wand against her."
His words got met with pleased looks.
"And, to be honest, you elves have treated me better than a lot of the humans I've run across. Half of you in here I think of as real friends," he said and let his eyes sweep the room. "I felt so… special, privileged when Neddy and Chet asked me to be here today. I… just had to make sure they knew I understood that."
"We know, Creevey. A bit showy, but we know," Chet mumbled at him.
Nedwina swatted her husband's arm. Dennis and the new father elf shared a grin. Grandiola made a gurgling noise.
"I think most of you know my wand is yours whenever you need it. Might not be much, but I'll stand by you. I give back what I get," he said and hoped they understood he meant it.
"Strangest… damn… wizard," Chet said and punctuated each word.
Nedwina frowned at her husband. She then slipped the wand away from her daughter, and Grandiola complained against the interruption. The elf stared at his wand as though seeing it for the first time. Under normal circumstances Dennis would feel pensive about another person handling his wand. However, he became keenly aware that day elves commanded considerable powers. It got built in to their very lives.
"Sort of matches your hair, Dennis," she said while handing the wand to him.
"'Cept a bit more gold in it than my hair," the young wizard repeated words said to him when he first got the wand.
"Now, I think you've made your point, Dennis," Chet said. "Mind putting your clothes back on. You look liked as starved phoenix… and that reminds me we got a lunch ready for the lot of you."
For the first time since he began his version of the ceremony, Dennis realized he stood mostly naked amid the clan of elves. He felt himself go flush. A wry grin appeared on several faces.
"And I thought we looked weedy," quipped Rotilma, a friend of Nedwina's Dennis met in the past.
A chorus of laughs broke out. Dennis took that moment of good humor to head back to where he left his backpack and clothing. In short order he donned his clothes and rejoined the group. A large round table, made of gray wood he did not recognize, now occupied the center of the main parlor. Chairs, also of the same wood, sat around it. More chairs dotted the walls in order to accommodate all the guests. Dennis gaped in awe at the artistry used in constructing the furniture, and it seemed reasonable to him to conclude the elves crafted it themselves. As he admired the beauty chairs and table, he also realized the pieces got scaled to elf height. Thus, he planned on sitting on the floor where he could fit.
"Dennis, here," Chet a minute after rejoined the group. The new elf father held out his robes.
"No," Dennis said pushed lightly at the elf's hands. "They're old and kind of worn, but… I guess I want you, Grandiola really, to keep them as… a symbol of all this. It's a personal of a gift as I could find."
"You read up on our history, didn't you?"
Dennis grinned. It got met with one from the elf.
"This is a powerful symbol, Dennis, but she'll never understand it," his friend reminded him.
"I know, but it'll give you a chance, maybe a reason, to explain to her what happened in the past," the wizard firmly stated. "Chet, humans do everything they can to hide the past and what we've really done. I'm hoping Grandy will grow up and wonder why she owns some wizard robes. I'm hoping it'll cause the conversation that needs to be had all the time. I'll never lie to her 'bout what I know if she asks."
"You really thought about this," Chet remarked and did not ask.
"A lot."
"How'd you get like this?"
"Like I told you before," Dennis said and raised his eyebrows, "I saw the worst of what witches and wizards are before I saw the good. Me and Col got treat like some sort of zoo animals 'cause we're muggle-born. Yeah, we got a little hyper 'bout it all, but magic just seemed so grand to us. Then whole Voldemort war… and when I got outed as gay… what got done to Cam… it's just been one shit show after another with human magi for me."
"Everyone?" His friend skillfully asked a dozen questions with one word.
"No, not everyone. Professor Flitwick is one of the best, kindest people I know. A lot of the ghosts and portraits are nice, like Lord Thomas and his daughter. The Odpadkis, the people I work for, are really, really good to me. Madam Pince has kind of warmed up to me, and I met some Druids who are really solid people…"
Chet let out with a single barking laugh the pun. Seconds later Nedwina appeared at his side. Her eyes shifted back and forth as he glanced at the two.
"He made a Druid joke," Chet remarked.
"Oh, we knew he made some sort of joke if he got you to laugh," Nedwina teased her husband. "Now, come along. We got the luncheon ready, and there's a few more things we need to get to before we call it an afternoon."
Dennis started moving forward on his knees. Chet and Nedwina turned and went before him. As he followed behind, he again could not believe his fortune at being invited to such an incredibly special event. Moreover, the friendship of the elves deeply touched him. It seemed to prove again one of the adages his mother like to spout: doing a kindness gets a kindness. However, she never warned him just how far it could go. The wizard found himself smiling by the time he reached the circle of the main gathering of elves in the parlor.
"Right," Nedwina said as she took her seat next to her daughter's high chair. "Who gets the honor of feeding Grandy?"
As one all the elves pointed at Dennis. Seconds later the group burst into laughter. Dennis realized some joke got played, but he marveled at the fact he never once before heard the sound of a group elves laughing together. Their voices rose high and light as they chortled, and it lasted far longer than he imagined it would. Some magics did not require power, but created their own. He laughed with them after a few seconds while nodding his head.
And so the Gladdening Day for Grandiola continued. Around him feelings of family and merriment took shape. Dennis felt included, and that made him glad.
CAST
Dennis Creevey
Chet Róvanúr – last name is Sindarin for "hard people"; elves typically do not share their last name
- Lift operator at the Ministry; appears to be in mid-30s, but elves live a long time (he's actually 61); small tufts of hair along the sides and on top of his head, standard house elf light gray in color; a rather fat, long nose for an elf; possesses huge teeth; stands about 3 ft 2 inches in height (just under a meter)
Nedwina Róvanúr;
Grandiola – daughter of Chet and Nedwina
Timeline
1 week after the invitation, Dennis goes to Inverness
1 week spent in Scotland talking to Cawdor ghosts and finding the forge site.
3 days in Hogwarts restricted section
GOES TO YORK ANNEX to spend the day
When is Gladdening Day?
NOTE
Gyromander – a magically mutated salamander, gray-green in appearance, that can spin its entire body at terrific speeds. Bony protrusions around its head turns the amphibian into a mini saw easily capable of cutting through flesh and possibly bone.
Galad -o i erui anor, Hén -o i erui ithil = sindarin for 'light of the first sun, child of the first moon'
Hen uireb = hers eternal