The Diary, the Holiday and the Party
Harry swung open the double-doors leading to the kitchen. Nearly all the house elves jumped and avoided his eye timidly, but Nooky and Pippy greeted him kindly. A few elves eyed them nastily, one scrubbing the silverware so hard the prongs were dulling, but none spoke.
"Quand es'ma, No'che? Pehp'ae?"
Harry had learned much from his time with the house elves. And one of their many secrets was that they had their own language.
Granted, his pronunciation was shit. He was more likely to give them an insight on Muggle Astrology than ask them how they're doing, but he felt honored they were so inclined to teach him. House elves almost never shared such secrets with humans, and doing so was a symbol of the highest trust.
"Quand es'mua, Heir'yi! Plural!" Pippy chastised, giggling. Nooky flicked the young, child-like elf with a dish towel.
Nooky smiled up at him with old, intelligent eyes. "Tsui guique cidare?"
"Cial- no, ciuel," Harry stumbled through his words. Pippy smothered her laughs with her hands. Nooky rolled her eyes and handed him a platter of small sandwiches.
"Siral quende Dre'cwa, hui?" Say hi to Draco for us, yeah?
"Ah, h-hui!" Platter in hand, Harry practically ran out the door.
"Joq aswyyyyyyy'l av'rica'le lok!" Pippy grinned sappily.
"Io, borestant!"
...
Harry swung open the dormitory door. "Hey, Blaise. Seen Draco 'round?"
"In the bathroom. Toss me a sandwich?"
Harry chucked it to Blaise's general direction, but with his less-than-adequate hand-eye coordination, it landed on Ivan's face from where he was laying down at the foot of Blaise's bed.
"Twat," they said simultaneously.
Harry sat the plate on his desk, which had turned into a "dorm desk" as the other boys grew more comfortable in sharing spaces (and that a desk for each of them would suffocate the room). Harry walked into his closet, locking the door shut.
Rummaging through the shelves, Harry searched for Tom Riddle's diary. He had sworn himself not to even think of it until the end of the semester when he would face Voldemort again, but he suspected the thing was making him so agitated. He needed to see why.
He shoved his trousers to the side, standing on his toes, tilting his head as much as he could.
It wasn't there.