Chapter Eight: The House Elves

Chapter Summary: Henri meets the Hogwarts house elves.

Author's Note: This is the first time Henri is meeting the house elves, he doesn't have any prior knowledge on them, and doesn't know or understand their relationship with wizards. Also he's a young man who is very lonely and in need of company. But as he spends time with them and learn about them, he'll learn about some problematic aspects of their relationship with wizards. If he tries to intervene, his approach will be different to canon Hermione's brash attempt of shoving freedom down their throats because his experiences are different, but that's for future chapters.

Henri's explorations of Hogwarts had taken on a new dimension. Over the weeks, he had become quite adept at finding hidden pathways and secret rooms. His skill in moving unseen and unheard through the castle had grown, turning his adventures into something of a personal sport. Each new discovery was a triumph, a small escape from the constant weight of his loneliness and the taunts of Draka and her friends.

On one chilly December afternoon, while he was wandering through an unfamiliar corridor, he stumbled upon a door with a peculiar portrait. It depicted a pear, framed in an ornate, golden frame, hanging against a richly embroidered tapestry.

Fascinated, Henri reached out and traced his fingers over the portrait, absentmindedly running his hand over the pear's painted surface. As his fingers brushed against it, the portrait seemed to shift and change. The pear's surface rippled, and Henri's eyes widened in surprise as the painting turned into a door, swinging open to reveal the bustling, warm interior of what appeared to be the Hogwarts kitchens.

Henri hesitated for a moment at the threshold, marveling at the sudden transformation. His curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped inside. It was bustling with activity. The room was filled with small, humanoid beings with large, expressive eyes and floppy ears darting about, their hands moving swiftly stirring cauldrons, baking bread, as they prepared an array of dishes. The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering stews filled the air, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

Feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension, Henri stepped into the kitchen. As he did, the bustling activity paused briefly as the workers looked up at the unexpected visitor. Henri had an apology on his lips, ready to explain himself, when one of the workers who seemed to be the head of the group—evident from her unique attire and the deference the others paid her—approached him.

She smiled warmly. "Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens, little master," she greeted, her voice gentle and her eyes twinkling with kindness. She gestured to a cozy corner where a comfortable seat was already waiting.

Henri, still somewhat overwhelmed, glanced around at the busy kitchen scene that had resumed its frenetic pace. He turned his attention back to the kind worker before him. "Pardon me if I sound rude," he said hesitantly, "but what are you?"

The head worker chuckled softly. "No offence taken, young master. We is house elves. We serve Hogwarts—cooking, cleaning, and looking after the students. We's here to make sure everything runs smoothly. I is Whispy, the head house elf."

Henri's eyes widened in fascination. "Henri Granger," he introduced himself, extending his hand in greeting. Whispy looked at his hand in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a gesture. Henri shrugged, attributing it to cultural differences.

"You is so kind young master to want to be shaking hands with house elves," Whispy said as she shook his hand.

"Why wouldn't I?" Henri wondered out loud. Why was it kind to shake hands?

Whispy beamed at him, "You is kind indeed."

Henri shook his head in confusion and muttered "I've never seen anyone like you before," he understand her but she was kind to him, so he'd kind to her, if she thought shaking hands was kind, he'd shake her hand everytime.

Whispy's smile broadened. "You is be muggleborn, then. You is always welcome here, little master. Please be taking a seat," she said, motioning for him to sit. She then handed him a large steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Henri had never seen house elves before. His knowledge of magical creatures was limited to what he had read in books, and he had never imagined meeting such beings in person. The elves, despite their peculiar appearance, were warm and welcoming.

Henri took a cautious sip of the beverage, and the rich, velvety flavor sent a wave of comfort through him. It was the best hot chocolate he had ever tasted. The warmth of the drink, combined with the soothing ambiance of the kitchen, made him feel as though he had finally found a place where he truly belonged.

Feeling content and safe, Henri let his exhaustion take over. He fell asleep right there in the kitchen, snuggled up against a stack of cushions. When he awoke, he found Whispy and the other elves bustling around, preparing to send him on his way. His pockets were filled with a variety of treats—chocolates, pastries, and even a small loaf of bread. The elves insisted he return whenever he liked, their kindness genuine and heartfelt.

Henri did return, time and again. The kitchen became his sanctuary. Whispy's daughter, Mispy, was particularly kind to him. Mispy seemed to take a special interest in Henri, and their bond grew quickly. She would bring him treats, help him find things to decorate his mancave, repair his clothes that were torn or rippled from crawling in tight crevices in his adventures, wash them and iron them extra special. Mispy had a knack for making him feel special and cared for, and her assistance in decorating his mancave transformed it from a dusty, forgotten room into a cozy, personal retreat.

One of Mispy's most valuable contributions was her help in warding the mancave against intruders. She used her magic to place protective spells around the room, ensuring that Draka and her gang would not stumble upon Henri's hideaway. That simple act of kindness made him feel so safe than he had ever felt his entire time at Hogwarts so far.

Henri was grateful beyond words for Mispy's support. Her loyalty and kindness helped restore a sense of normalcy to his life, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, he felt a measure of happiness. Mispy and Whispy, along with the other house elves, made him feel valued and loved. Whispy's stories about the history and folklore of house elves, combined with her cooking, especially when she prepared French dishes that reminded Henri of home, provided a comfort he hadn't known he was missing.

Yet, despite his newfound happiness, Henri still longed for a human friend. His connection with the house elves was invaluable, but there was something deeply fulfilling about human companionship that he craved. The more he spent time with Mispy and Whispy, the more he yearned for a friend he could share his experiences with, someone who understood his human perspective and could stand by him in the way that only another person could.

Henri was ecstatic when Christmas break rolled around. He couldn't wait to see his Maman and Papa. This is the longest he has ever been away from home and he missed them dearly. He thought of enchanting smell of nutmeg as his Papa baked in the kitchen, the constant hum of his Maman as she slowly run her fingers through his hair as they watched TV. He even missed watching footy with Papa even though he didn't care for organized sports.

The day before he was due to leave for Christmas break, he approached Whispy with a special request. He had been thinking about how he could give back to his parents who had always loved him and treated him with kindness, and he decided that learning to cook would be a meaningful way to do so. He wanted to surprise his parents with a special meal when he went home.

"Pardon me, Whispy," Henri said, trying to sound casual but clearly excited. "I was wondering if Mispy could teach me how to cook a few things. I'd love to make a special meal for my parents when I go home." He was nervous, in the short time he had spent with the elves, he learned that they were very proud of their work and asking to help them or do some work might be taken as an offense. He didn't want to offend his only friends.

Whispy looked at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement and affection. She had seen the genuine warmth in Henri's heart and knew he was sincere. She glanced at Mispy, who was busy arranging ingredients, and then back at Henri. "Ah, little master, you is always so thoughtful," Whispy said with a chuckle. "Mispy," she called to her daughter, "I be making an exception. You's be teaching little master how to make special meals for little master's parents."

Mispy's face lit up with a excitement. "Of course, come along, little master, I'd be teaching you to cook nice special meal for the big Grangys," she said enthusiastically and Henri giggled. The elves could never quite grasp how to pronounce his last name, and forget about them calling him Henri, it was always little master, if he insisted they call him Henri, they'd call him little master Henri.

Mispy excitedly led Henri to a section in the kitchen and began teaching him the basics of cooking, showing him how to pick the right ingredients, mixing them and prepare various dishes with care and precision.

Henri was not a natural cook, and his attention span was not the best but Mispy was patient, after their session, Henri was sure he could make his parents spaghetti and meatballs without poisoning them. Henri said bye to the elves and left to prepare for his journey home. His pockets were stuffed with treats as usual.