Chapter 26
December 21st, 1943
Tom
Shaving your whiskers is practically a metaphor for my path ahead. I need to the blade close enough to my skin to cut the hair the way I wish, but too much pressure and I’ll end up slitting my throat. Similarly, I need to be forthcoming with Hope about my wants, but tread carefully so her conscience doesn’t interfere. Just as much care and precision is needed, and I cannot allow familiarity to make me complacent.
A sharp crack distracts me from my thoughts, making me glance towards the entryway to the bathroom.
“Mr. Riddle, breakfast is prepared,” Dobby the House Elf informs me cheerily before apparating away.
Taking a towel, I dry off my face while looking in the mirror. Clean shaven, curls perfect, and mischief glinting in my eyes, all despite barely sleeping. Hope quickly kicked me out of her room at the thought of experimenting on witches or wizards. She doesn’t see how necessary the need is, but arguing about it now would simply push her away. Death has been a companion most of my life, which is how I know I don’t want to fully succumb to her.
Walking through the familiar halls, I wonder how tonight will go. Hell, I wonder how the next hour is going to go. Whether someone told Hope about the Malfoy Soirée is inconsequential, the dress I picked out for her will be delivered via Dobby. Seeing how much of an affinity she has for the creatures, I’ve come to appreciate their usefulness. In a lot of ways, they are exactly as Hope said once upon a time; superior creatures.
They’ll be strong allies, especially with Hope by my side. Perhaps Dobby could help me find books from the library so I can research. The Malfoy’s have a collection far more vast than Hogwarts, and that is saying something. In only a few days, I’d like to become well versed in Soul Bonding Ceremonies, how wizards are able to perform magic, and how genetics might affect magic.
For one, if there is a marriage ceremony that will allow us to share abilities, then my magic would be as affected by death as hers. That is my preferred option to be honest, allowing Hope and I to be the most powerful people in the world. Allowing myself time to amass more social power through the Ministry would allow me as long as I needed to perfect the change in magic. I’m not naive enough to think that going from needing a wand to seemingly limitless power will be easy.
The fact that Hope is as capable as she is at this age is wildly impressive, I can’t imagine how growing up was for her. But, the goal is both to be powerful and to live forever. She seems to be the answer to all my prayers, wrapped in a sexy, intelligent, and funny package. My inability to get her to believe in my intentions is frustrating, but I’m too busy replaying her magical display in the equestrian field to care at the moment.
Her feet must have been twenty yards in the air, swirls of ice, snow, water, and birds surrounding her, and I’ve never seen something so beautiful. It was loud, wild, all consuming, and made my blood pump like prey watching their predator show its teeth. Everything I want, everything I’m attracted to. Hope is an angel, delivered to this world for me, she just hasn’t accepted that yet. There is no other acceptable explanation; I wished for power and eternal life, and the universe gave me Hope. If that doesn’t sound like fate, then I should be failing Divination.
“Mr. Riddle, I trust you slept well,” Mr. Malfoy says by way of greeting as I enter the familiar solarium.
A room mostly made of windows perfectly displays the winter blanketed gardens, including the nearby maze, and fountain of Nordic Goddesses. Mainly decorated in soft, natural tones, the furniture is delicate and feminine. Truthfully, its one of my favorite rooms, other than the overwhelming amount of mint green.
Taking a seat between Mrs. Malfoy and Abraxas, I smile at Armond, “I did, thank you again for such comfortable accommodations. What a lovely morning we’re having.”
“Yes it is,” Mrs. Malfoy says with an undercurrent of irritation. “As you were saying, Dearest?”
Mr. Malfoy glares at his wife, and a silent battle ensues. I’ve only been privy to a handful of these situations, but there’s always the same winner. The Lady of the house has never particularly cared for my existence, usually deigning to ignore me or politely insult through back handed compliments. Despite being twice the wizard her Pureblooded son is, she’ll always see me as just a Halfblood that prefers to only discuss his Gaunt side.
Seeing as they’re all dead, it does seem pointless at this point to talk about my muggle Father’s side of the family. My Gaunt blood is what really matters, what has swayed most of the Pureblooded community to my side. That plus me being top of my class every year by a substantial margin. Truly, this is the first term anyone has ever come close, and I did get the feeling that Hope let me win. That seems unlikely, I can’t think of a purpose for her to throw a fight, but the cheeky smile that came over her when the results were posted…She seemed happy that I beat her, which is odd.
“Yes, thank you, Hazel,” Mr. Malfoy says to his wife, clearing his throat. “Miss Mikaelson, we were intending on using this morning to discuss your plans after graduation.”
Hope looks confused briefly before turning pensive, “I suppose I’d like to find a profession I enjoy. Make money and travel this new world, perhaps?”
My mouth salivates at those words, praying that she’s telling the truth. That would certainly constitute as a quiet life, one I could spend plenty of time convincing her to help me slowly rise to power.
Mrs. Malfoy nearly chokes on her orange juice, “My, that is what husbands are for, Miss. Mikaelson.”
“Preferably, one with resources like our family has,” Mr. Malfoy adds, looking at Hope meaningfully. “Becoming a Malfoy, you could simply travel. We certainly have the means, and Abraxas would be a knowledgeable tour guide.”
My blood runs cold, and I watch Abraxas pale while Hope chuckles, “Are you trying to ask me or tell me something?”
“You value transparency, correct?” Mrs. Malfoy asks. Once Hope confirms, she continues, “In light of that, we are attempting to be forthcoming. Last night, we discussed, and Armond and I would like to welcome you as a future daughter-in-law.”
Her tone is just shy of begrudging, but her smile seems impeccable. Hope looks unimpressed, “Right, I can assure you that you would not appreciate that.”
“We understand what we saw yesterday, Miss. Mikaelson,” Armond states, daintily cutting into his eggs. “Adding you to the family is the best course of action to the Malfoy line.”
“Wrong,” she replies, unaffected. “If I even can bear children when things are said and done, having me mother your next generation would lead to each and every one of them being cursed. Followed by their children, and so forth until the lines dies out.”
No, no, no she cannot be doing this. Hope won’t look at me, she’s too busy staring down Mr. Malfoy and his shocked expression. If she tells them that she’s a werewolf, they’ll kill her. Both of them, her powers be damned. They won’t take the time to understand she couldn’t pass it on to them, or perhaps the more accurate phrasing would be they wouldn’t care.
“How?” Mrs. Malfoy asks simply.
Hope turns to her with a blank expression, her voice monotone, “My bloodline was cursed by an ancient ancestor, every born descendant will be tortured once a moon cycle for their natural lives.”
Even knowing that isn’t the full truth, and that her explanation doesn’t give anything away doesn’t stop my heart from pounding in my chest. My hands are clammy, and I keep one wrapped around my wand just in case this goes side ways. Fighting the Malfoys in their Manor is a dumb idea at best, but when the occasion calls for it, I suppose.
Mrs. Malfoy scoffs, “Oh, so the price of your sons having immense power is a little pain once a month? I believe they’ll turn out just fine.”
Hope laughs heartily, rolling her eyes, “Not quite like a menstrual cycle. No, every bone in my body breaks once a month. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure some break more than once.”
She pauses to catch her breath, meanwhile silverware clangs as the adults in the room drop them in horrified shock.
Turning to Abraxas, I watch him slouching more than I’ve ever seen allowed, but his parents are too busy watching the far too casual witch take a bite of food before continuing, “Plus, if I can have children, my first born and most powerful will be a girl. Just a blessing in my bloodline, although it doesn’t completely make up for the curse.”
“If you can?” Mrs. Malfoy starts, disgust bleeding into her tone. “Does infertility run in your family?”
I knew that Hope wanted to tell enough of the truth as a way to convince these people that they don’t actually want her. But, after last night, I doubt there is anything that can truly dissuade the head of the Malfoy line. At least, not without running the risk of them exterminating Hope. The chance of adding her magic to his legacy would be enough to overlook any pain and suffering that he will never experience first hand.
Hope shakes her head, still responding like she’s discussing the weather, “No, fertility isn’t an issue…Abraxas was born with certain responsibilities, while I don’t know the full extent, I’m sure that he will spend a long time learning how to be the head of this great household. I was also born with responsibilities, albeit very different ones, and those may keep me from being able to produce children.”
“Might I inquire what your obligations are?” Armond asks, somewhat masquerading his intense need to know with mild curiosity.
Hope shakes her head once again, “No, no you may not. What I can tell you is that my life comes with a heavy price that I must pay. Far greater than simply only being able to marry from a small pool of options, or having my path in life mapped out.”
Still holding my wand, I watch Abraxas continue to shift uncomfortably next to Hope. He shared his conversation with her to me, the knowledge he acquired, and how he understands why I plan on helping end her life.
That being said, I know that Abraxas goes from being envious of her lot in life to nearly sick with worry for his own fate, especially if she is added to his problems. Unfortunately, his parents decide that right now is the opportune moment to pay attention to their son again.
“Abraxas,” Mrs. Malfoy lilts, her smile serpentine. “Would you like to share anything you’ve learned on the matter?”
He pales under his mother’s scrutiny, looking at me with a panicked expression. It’s not like I can save him from this conversation, I’m too focused on Hope’s safety and thinking of possible escape routes. The more his parents learn about her, the more I worry that something will happen. Surprising both of us, Hope’s hand appears on Abraxas’ arm.
With an irritated expression, she firmly tells Mrs. Malfoy, “The only thing he knows is the price I have to pay, but he doesn’t understand why or what will happen.”
“Then please share,” she responds, flipping her glowing red hair over a shoulder. Her smugness comes from the assumption that she’s victorious in this particular battle, “What is the price you must pay?”
Turning completely serious, Hope simply says, “I have to die.”
***********
Hope
Closing the door behind me, I let out a long breath, and lean against the solid wood. Sinking to the floor, I all but collapse, and rest my head behind me. Coming here was always going to be difficult, but that conversation may have been a mistake. Telling people I’m going to die is never fun, and the Malfoys more or less followed the same outline as most normal people.
First comes disbelief, assuming that I’m telling some sick joke. Followed by shock, the need to ask questions that I won’t answer, and a craving for understanding. Convincing people that there isn’t another way tends to take longer than I’d like, and the Malfoys were no different. I didn’t tell them how long I have, simply told them that by this time next year, I will have died.
Question after question was thrown my way; would I be able to be a part of a Soul Bonding Ceremony, how would my life continue after death, will my magic be effected by my metamorphosis? My answer to all of them, regardless of the truth, was a firm ‘I don’t know.’ Much to both adults’ dismay, I don’t have all the answers, and am unwilling to share those I do.
Closing my eyes, I try my best to remember everything I know about this world, and the new dangers I seem to have pulled out of no where. I don’t think Abraxas Malfoy’s wife is ever mentioned, at least not that I remember. Without even her name, I can’t figure out if he managed a love match, only that she will be the mother to Lucius Malfoy. His name sparks a memory, and I quickly climb to my feet.
A moment’s debate results in a ‘what the hell’ kind of attitude, and I call out, “Dobby!”
To my pleasure and surprise, a House Elf apparates into my room. Seeming awfully confused, wide green eyes stare at me from a tiny, brown body. A grey pillowcase has been turned into something almost resembling clothing, and he wrings his hands in front of him nervously.
“Is there something the Miss needs from Dobby?” his squeaky voice asks.
Falling to my knees in front of him, I smile broadly, “Yes! But, first it is so nice to meet you, Dobby. My name is Hope.”
Offering him a hand, Dobby cowers as if I’m going to hit him. My smile turns into a tight line, understanding that he’s acting from experience. Holding my stance, I wait for him to realize a blow is not coming his way, and he stares at my hand in open confusion.
“Yous…wants to shake Dobby’s hand?” his voice hesitant and raised a couple octaves.
When I nod a yes, he all but leaps at me, grabbing my out stretched hand with both of his. Despite his small size, he’s strong, and shakes my hand with plenty of zeal. My smile returns to true joy, and I have to stop myself from hugging the elf. He doesn’t know me, and technically I don’t know him. In this world, Bellatrix isn’t even born yet, there’s no way to explain how very emotional I got when this very elf was killed.
“It is so very nice to meet you, but I do have a couple questions if you don’t mind?” My question comes out shaky, my eyes watering more than I want. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of familiarity, and a weight appears in my chest.
While I blink away my emotions, Dobby emphatically nods his head, “Yes, Dobby will help Miss Hope. What does Miss need?”
“What exactly do the Malfoy’s do for Yule? I understand I’m supposed to dress up, but is there a party?”
Dobby starts nodding emphatically, his ears flopping about, “Yes! Yes, the closest families comes for supper and fun.”
My eyes widen, my voice suddenly breathless, “What do you mean by ‘fun?’ And how many people, if you don’t mind.”
He looks at me curiously, his hands touching like he wants to fidget, “Is Miss okay? Master only inviting Master’s friends, Master Abby is only inviting Miss and Mr. Riddle.”
“Thank goodness,” I say on a sigh of relief. Smiling encouragingly, I continue, “I’m doing just fine, you could say I’m a little shy. That’s all, but what will we be doing tonight?”
“Miss has nothing to worries about, Master Abby and Mr. Riddle will be with you,” Dobby tells me reassuringly. “Solstices is time for sacrifice to Master’s Gods. Then, feast and drink and wes House Elves cleans. Has been Malfoy tradition since before here!”
Having studied various magical cultures, I can’t say I’m shocked that an ancient, Pureblood family celebrates with a sacrifice. Wonder if Madame Malfoy asked to use me instead of a bird or roast pig, I almost want her to try it. At breakfast, she was certainly nicer than last night, but I still got the distinct feeling that she thinks she’s better than me. Having to save Abraxas from his Mother’s questioning was irritating, but his parents can’t learn more than they should. While I can’t truly empathize with Abraxas and his situation, I know better than to compare his bond with me versus his parents.
“Okay, I can deal with that. Is it alright if I ask one more thing of you, Dobby?” My question results in him lighting up, supremely excited to be of service.
“Yes, Miss!” Dobby practically shouts. “Anything, Miss. Yous is so nice to Dobby, Dobby is happy to helps.”
I can’t help but laugh at how animated he is. In the books, I know he was rambunctious, but this is entirely different than what I was expecting. Not that I’m complaining, a spirited House Elf is apparently an entertaining one.
“Thank you, I really appreciate that. I just want to ask, how do the Malfoys treat you?” I ask hesitantly, already having guessed the answer.
Dobby’s eyes widen, and the smile vanishes from his face, “Dobby is treated as House Elf, as Dobby supposed to be.”
Inching closer, I gently grab one of his hands, ignoring his slight flinch, “But, are the Malfoys kind to you? Does anyone hurt you? You can tell me if they do, I promise I won’t get you in trouble. It can be our secret.”
Tears well in his eyes, and Dobby nods before breaking into violent sobs, “Theys do hurts House Elves! Madame and Master wants sos many things and if wes are late or sloppy wes get the paddles, or worse. When Madame very mads, Madame spells us to hurts each others!”
Curling around the shaking elf, I pet his head in what is hopefully a reassuring manner. Dobby cries into my shoulder, having thrown his arms around my neck, and I rock us gently on the floor. The sounds he makes breaks my heart, and I find myself whispering soothingly into his ear.
“It’s alright, Dobby,” I start, trying to focus on him instead of not wanting to murder my hosts. “You know, I’m from a completely different world than this one. One where you are famous and beloved by so many people. I’m sorry that you’re treated poorly, and I’ll see what I can do to change your situation. But, remember that you’re a very important elf, especially to me.”
Leaning back, Dobby rubs the water from his eyes, and tries to sniff the snot back into his nose before asking in a quiet voice, “Dobby is knowns in another world?”
Wonder enters his blood shot eyes, and I nod with a sad smile, “Yes, you are. There’s a story you’re in, one where you help save a very important boy, and you’re gifted a sock to become free. Then, you start working at Hogwarts, and later help to win a war against a very bad man. Without you, the bad people would have won.”
Pulling a rag out of thin air, Dobby blows his nose loudly. Then, he hugs me tightly with surprising strength before releasing me.
“Thanks you, Miss,” he says wetly. “Yous is too kind, Dobby is always wanted to be a free elf. Dobby would likes to believe Dobby is the same from your world.”
Once he has a hold over himself, a strange determination enters his eyes. With a snap of his fingers, he disappears from my room. Confusion fills me, and I stand while looking around, wondering where he may have gone. Moments later, a deafening crack fills the space, and then there are at least five House Elves surrounding me.
“Wes helps the Miss,” Dobby announces proudly. “Miss deserves the bests treatments.”
*****************
Walking through the halls, the skirt of my dress whispers as it kisses the ground. Dobby and the other elves turned into an efficient tornado, getting me ready in record time. We spent the following hours discussing what I could do to help them while eating a lunch spread they brought out.
It did take some time for them to willingly eat with me, but once I told them it would make me incredibly happy if they did. That seemed to work, and before long we were joking around and having fun. Also, I learned that makeup here is a little weird; the consistencies and application methods are different, but I did look pretty when they were done. How someone managed to find me a suitable dress that fits is beyond me, but the elves swore they had nothing to do with it.
Thankfully, the portraits still don’t say anything to me, and I’ve gotten used to their judgmental stares. My heels clack against the ground, and I wonder who decided to dress me in lilac. It’s not really a winter color, and the elves insisted on putting red lipstick on me. If anything, I feel ready for Spring, despite the long sleeves, but who am I to question a holiday in another world?
“Miss Mikaelson!”
Once I reach the Manor’s entryway, I’m greeted with the familiar sight of Armond Malfoy with his wife on his arm. Both are wearing black and green robes, much simpler and more dignified than yesterday’s attire. Hazel still doesn’t look particularly pleased to see me, but Armond makes up for it with his enthusiasm. Without breaking from Madame Malfoy, he motions for me to come forward.
“Marvelous timing, these are my good friends; Perseus Parkinson and Victor Nott. Gentlemen, this is the famous Hope Mikaelson you’ve heard so much about,” Armond introduces, motioning to people behind him.
One man is significantly larger than the other, with extremely curly brown hair, and dimples when he smiles. He’s very muscular, like he was a body builder in his youth and carried over to his adulthood. The other has sleek black hair, minus the line of grey, and seems more like a swimmer than anything bulky. Both men are dressed like Armond and looking at me with similar intrigue, so I smile kindly at them.
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Nott says, moving forward to take my hand.
He leans down to lightly kiss my knuckles, then Mr. Parkinson follows suit. Both more or less size me up, but there’s an air of respect that’s usually absent from just checking someone out. Smiling innocently at them, I do my best not to scare the new folk. Their names are familiar, but I know nothing about these men in particular.
“Ah, and here comes the last of our party,” Armond announces.
Following his gaze, I find Abraxas confidently walking up to my side with Riddle following closely behind. An elbow is presented, and I do my best to look pleasant while my face burns with the eyes of many. Likely, this is a small test, the real question is who’s in the hot seat: me or the adult guests. Only, when I look closely at my date’s outfit, it doesn’t match mine.
Abraxas is wearing dress robes that hug his body, but the black is accented with greens, like his parents. Tom, on the other hand, has robes on so dark purple that they might be mistaken for black, with red detailing. A lilac pocket square is lightly folded in a horizontal pocket on one breast, matching my dress exactly. Suddenly, the random dress appearing with the elves in my room makes a lot of sense, and I make sure to close my lids before rolling my eyes.
Taking the arm offered, Abraxas winks at me playfully. What his parents and guests might assume is a flirtatious gesture, I recognize as him silently acknowledging that this is all a farce. When I look at Tom, he’s wearing a mask of pleasant aloofness, but danger lurks in his eyes when he glares at where his friend and I touch.
Before long, Mr. Malfoy announces that it’s time to go outside. Without wearing coats or anything to keep away the cold, we exit the manner. Abraxas mutters a warming charm for us, and I look at him wide eyed. I had no idea he could do wandless magic so casually, not even when he was my Potion’s partner. He simply grins at my surprise, looking extremely proud of himself.
I smile and shake my head as we walk to the front of the Manor. A large fountain sits in the center of the front lawn, but next to it sits a giant log. Really, it looks like a large tree trunk has been hollowed out, with various greens decorating it.
Once we get closer, I can’t help an involuntary jolt. I hear a soft bleet at the same time I notice a cute, little goat tied to the log. Dobby said there would be a sacrifice, but I was assuming we’d throw food or something into a fire. Trying to stay relatively unaffected, I look at Abraxas to find him already watching me.
With my head, I motion to the goat, and his smile tightens before he nods. We’re seriously going to kill an animal, in the middle of the snow. An adorable one that can’t be more than a couple of years old, with a black and white pelt that reminds me of a dalmatian.
“Miss Mikaelson, would you like to do the honors?” Armond asks, pulling a decorative dagger and a bowl seemingly made of a crystal the colors of a setting sun from his robes.
Looking at him and then the goat, I swallow heavily. Witch craft does occasionally call for death, but usually Freya and I would use a little bird. If we ever needed blood, we usually would just use our own, but this seems to be some kind of ancient ceremony if the objects are any indication. I’m also in a freaking gown, and definitely not dressed to butcher an animal.
“Perhaps Hope can light the fire,” Abraxas casually says while patting my hand. “We wouldn’t want to overwhelm our guest, would we Father?”
Mrs. Malfoy practically scoffs and takes the things from her husband’s hands, “Allow me, Dearest.”
Seeming far too excited, she approaches the goat, ignoring the increasingly distressed sounds coming from the animal. Grabbing the gruff on top of it’s head, Madame Malfoy pulls it back until the poor thing is standing on its hind legs, and she slits its throat. Blood sprays, and its cries become wet and garbled.
I manage to keep my reactions to a minimum, but I still feel myself pale as the life slowly leaks from the creature’s body, Mrs. Malfoy holding a crystal bowl out to catch some of the red river. Cleaning the dagger off in the snow, she hands both the knife and filled bowl back to her husband with a satisfied smirk. Armond then takes out his wand, and levitates the corpse until it rests on top of the log.
Everyone turns to me, likely expecting some amount of display for those that didn’t get to see me yesterday. With a wave of my hand, flames explode from with the log, quickly igniting the various greenery draped around it. Within moments, everything is aflame, and giving off a delightful heat.
“Oh my, you were able to do that without a wand?” Mr. Parkinson asks with an air of awe.
“Miss Mikaelson is able to perform feats of magic far more impressive without a wand,” Mr. Malfoy proudly proclaims. “This is but a small matter for her, I’m sure.”
With a small smile, I nod my acknowledgment, unsure of what exactly I’m supposed to do. When I look at Abraxas, he simply shrugs, not particularly invested in his Father’s continuing discussion about my abilities. Madame Malfoy is back to looking at me with disdain, clearly not enjoying the men discussing my magical prowess.
“Perhaps we should make our way back indoors,” Tom suddenly adds into the conversation. “Lest the witches contract a cold.”
“Splendid idea! Supper is likely prepared, a feast awaits us,” Abraxas all but shouts.
With that, I’m led back inside, the warmth of the interior wrapping around me like a hug. The moment we cross the threshold, more questions are thrown my way. Mr. Malfoy’s friends excitedly voicing every curiosity, talking over each other, and pushing to stand near me.
************
December 22nd, 1943
Tom
“All I know is that they asked to speak with her alone,”Abraxas tells me as he fiddles with a puzzle box. “My parents rarely believe in sharing their plans with me.”
He came to my guest rooms about twenty minutes ago, deigning to plop down on the large bed. Being a Malfoy, his white hair glows against the black bedding, like a star resting against an inky, dark sky. The same bedding I always have when visiting his home, ever since he allowed me to pick a guest room in second year. Learning that I’m most comfortable in black wouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me, so a room consisting off all blacks and greys is perfect.
My scowl is more frustrated than murderous, “Still, I do not understand why we can’t be present for whatever they have planned. This is precisely the kind of situation I came here to avoid.”
“Well, there is one way we could find out,” Abraxas sighs, not looking up from his game.
Moving to the side of the bed, I look down at him and command, “Do it.”
Sitting up, he finally puts down the box and shouts, “Dobby!”
A moment later, the skittish elf appears, already wringing his hands in front of himself. His usual thread bare scraps of clothes adorn his small, brown body, and his huge eyes hop between me and his charge.
“Dobby, do you know what the Malfoys are doing with Hope?” I ask as politely as my irritation will allow.
The elf starts tugging on his ears, forcefully before responding, “Yes, sirs. Dobby is told to collects books on bonding ceremonies and leaves them in dining room.”
Abraxas and I make eye contact, worry present in both of our faces. Innocently, this could be the most polite way for them to ask Hope which ceremonies might work with her very specific situation. But, leaving Hope alone with one born Malfoy and one born Yaxley is not wise.
“Is she safe, Dobby?” Abraxas asks, turning to the elf with a serious expression.
In a surprising turn of events, Dobby’s shoulders straighten, and he turns to his Master with a determination I’ve never seen before, “The Miss is not to be harmed. Dobby tolds all elves, the Miss is under our protection.”
Once again, Abraxas and I make eye contact, only this time confusion is our primary emotion. House Elves tend to be loyal to the family they serve, if not to the manor they preside in. Becoming this attached to a guest is unheard of, especially after so little time, but very welcome today. However, that still leaves a lot of questions.
“I’m pleased to hear that,”Abraxas starts, his tone slightly dazed. “Although, how did that come about?”
Still keeping up his strong posture, Dobby starts to quake, “The Miss comforts Dobby when Dobby is overcomes. Miss promises to helps House Elves, Miss speaks with Master nows.”
“How?” I hear myself asking. Clearing my throat, I continue, “How is she helping you all?”
Now, Dobby looks at the floor, his entire body quaking, “Miss asks Masters to stops hurting elves. Miss says wes deserves kindness, and Miss shows it to Dobby.”
Looking at Abraxas, I see a touch of guilt added to his general confusion. While I’ve never seen him treat his House Elves poorly, his parents are another story. Armond runs his household with a heavy hand, if I’ve seen his son with bruising, then I cannot imagine what he does to his elves behind closed doors. Hazel is oddly more clinical, and in my fourth year, I accidentally happened upon her dissection room. Elves weren’t the only creatures strapped to tables, and Hope is going to have one hell of a time negotiating with them.
“How did she comfort you?” Abraxas asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Dobby starts to tug on his ears, distressed sounds escaping him, “Dobby must not says, Dobby promises Miss, Dobby must be keeping Miss secret.”
My head whips to Abraxas, the boy’s actions slowed by shock. When he meets my gaze, there’s wonder and worry present, his mouth hanging open slightly. While I’m not naive enough to believe Hope has shared all of her secrets with me, I don’t want to believe that she told an elf something before telling me. No matter if I’m already privy to it or not, I will be learning what Hope shared with this elf.
“Dobby, won’t you come here for a moment?” I ask him patiently, smiling kindly.
Hesitantly, Dobby walks towards me, still pulling at his ears in painful intervals. Once he’s close enough, I kneel so that we can make eye contact. His green eyes are wide with lingering fear; no matter how I’ve treated him, he basically just denied a request from one of his masters. Given what I know about the Malfoys, that likely never ends well.
“This will only take a moment, and will hurt less if you do not fight me,” I tell the elf calmly. His eyes widen even more, allowing for easier eye contact, and I hold up my wand while saying, “Legilimens.”