HP & The Goblet of Fire

Ron seemed to thoroughly hate Divination, even though he said that Professor Trelawney was the looniest and yet the funniest character he'd ever met.

“If I’d dropped dead every time she’s told me I’m going to, I’d be a medical miracle.” Ron huffed irritably.

“You’d be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost,” Charles chortled, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. “At least you didn’t get homework. We didn't get much either from Professor Vector.”

But Hermione wasn’t at dinner, nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterwards. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Charles whether he should ask for an autograph with Bianca sniggering in the background — but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

“Wonder where she’s got to?” Ron said as they went back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Dunno... balderdash.”

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind them announced Hermione’s arrival.

“Charles!” she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). “Charles, Bianca, you’ve got to come — you’ve got to come, the most amazing thing’s happened — please —”

She seized either of Charles’ and Bianca's arms and started to try to drag them back along the corridor.

“What’s the matter?” Charles asked.

“I’ll show you when we get there — oh come on, quick —”

Bianca looked around at Charles and Ron; they looked back at her, intrigued.

“Okay,” Charles said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione and Bianca, Ron hurrying to keep up.

“Oh don’t mind me!” the Fat Lady called irritably after them. “Don’t apologize for bothering me! I’ll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Ron shouted over his shoulder.

“Hermione, where are we going?” Bianca asked, after they had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

“You’ll see, you’ll see in a minute!” said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Charles had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry’s names. Bianca had never been through here before. She, Charles, and Ron followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape’s dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

“Oh hang on...” said Charles slowly, halfway down the corridor. “Wait a minute, Hermione...”

“What?” She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

“I know what this is about,” said Charles. Bianca nodded in ascent.

He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

“Hermione!” said Ron, cottoning on. “You’re trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!”

“No, no, I’m not!” she said hastily. “And it’s not spew, Ron —”

“Changed the name, have you?” said Ron, frowning at her. “What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I’m not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I’m not doing it —”

“I’m not asking you to!” Hermione said impatiently. “I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found — oh come on, Charles, I want to show you!”

She seized his arm again, leaving Bianca and Ron, and pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Charles hard in the back, forcing him inside.

After she'd followed him in, Bianca had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward them (especially Charles) from the middle of the room, squealing, “Charles Potter, sir! Charles Potter!”

Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break.

Charles flinched and gasped, "D-Dobby?!"

“It is Dobby, sir, it is!” squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. The others watched on bemused. “Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Charles Potter, sir, and Charles Potter has come to see him, sir!”

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Charles, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He was a typical house-elf; a pencil-shaped nose, batlike ears, long fingers and feet — all except the clothes, which were... unique, so to speak. 

House-elves usually either woke filthy pillowcases or some such, or, if they were treated nicely, they wore dresses like special uniforms. While Bianca was almost a muggleborn, she did have the surname Joule and her previous best friend in America had had a house-elf. Dobby was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Bianca had ever seen, and she was a foriegner; he was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children’s soccer shorts, and odd socks. One was a black torn sock, while the other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

“Dobby, what’re you doing here?” Charles said in amazement. Bianca noted this question in her mind to ask later; how did Charles know such a weird elf.

“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby squealed excitedly. “Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!”

“Winky?” Ron said. “She’s here too?”

“Yes, sir, yes!” said Dobby, and he seized Charles’ hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there, the rest of them following. Each of these tables, Bianca noticed as she passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Charles and the gaggle past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky’s had been, like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed. “Winky, sir!” he said.

A female house-elf - presumably Winky - was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby’s strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

“Hello, Winky,” Charles said.

Winky’s lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front.

“Oh dear,” said Hermione. “Winky, don’t cry, please don’t...”

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Charles. “Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?” he squeaked loudly, over Winky’s sobs.

“Er — yeah, okay,” Charles said awkwardly.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind them, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Charles, Bianca, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

“Good service!” Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.

“How long have you been here, Dobby?” Charles asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

Bianca didn't want to ignore Winky, but she just went with the flow. She couldn't really do anything to help her, and she wanted to hear the conversations. 

“Only a week, Charles Potter, sir!” said Dobby happily. “Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed —”

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.

“Dobby has travelled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!” Dobby squeaked. “But Dobby hasn’t found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!”

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, “Good for you, Dobby!”

“Thank you, miss!” said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. “But most wizards doesn’t want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. ‘That’s not the point of a house-elf,’ they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby’s face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid, Charles Potter... Dobby likes being free!”

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume of her crying.

“And then, Charles Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!” said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. 

Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky’s screeches.

“And then Dobby had the idea, Charles Potter, sir! ‘Why doesn’t Dobby and Winky find work together?’ Dobby says. ‘Where is there enough work for two house-elves?’ says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!”

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

“And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!”

“That’s not very much!” Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky’s continued screaming and fist-beating.

“Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off,” said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, “but Dobby beat him down, miss... Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn’t wanting too much, miss, he likes work better.”

“And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?” Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

“Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!” she squeaked. “Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!”

“Ashamed?” said Hermione blankly. “But — Winky, come on! It’s Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn’t do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you —”

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn’t hear a word, and screeched, “You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!”

“Winky is having trouble adjusting, Charles Potter,” squeaked Dobby confidentially. “Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won’t do it.”

“Can’t house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?” Bianca asked, intrigued.

“Oh no, miss, no,” said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. “’Tis part of the house-elf’s enslavement, miss. We keeps their secrets and our silence, miss. We upholds the family’s honor, and we never speaks ill of them — though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to — to —”

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Bianca closer. She bent forward and Dobby whispered, “He said we is free to call him a — a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!”

Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle. Bianca snorted a laugh. 

“But Dobby is not wanting to, miss, sirs” he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. “Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, miss, sirs, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him.”

“But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?” Charles asked him, grinning.

A slightly fearful look came into Dobby’s immense eyes.

“Dobby — Dobby could,” he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. “Dobby could tell Charles Potter that his old masters were — were — bad Dark wizards!”

Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring — then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

Charles seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.

“Thank you, Charles Potter, thank you,” said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

“You just need a bit of practice,” Harry said kindly.

“Practice!” squealed Winky furiously. “You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!” 

“They isn’t my masters anymore, Winky!” said Dobby defiantly. “Dobby doesn’t care what they think anymore!”

“Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!” moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. “My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her... oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!” She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

“Winky,” said Hermione firmly, “I’m quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We’ve seen him, you know —” 

“You is seeing my master?” said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. “You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Bianca said, “he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Mr. Bagman comes too?” squeaked Winky, and to Bianca’s great surprise (and Charles’, Ron's, and Hermione’s too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. “Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn’t liking him, oh no, not at all!”

“Bagman — bad?” Charles frowned.

“Oh yes,” Winky said, nodding her head furiously. “My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying... Winky — Winky keeps her master’s secrets...”

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, “Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"

They couldn’t get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

“Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Charles Potter!” he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

“Tell you what, Dobby,” said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, “I’ll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don’t mind maroon, do you?”

Dobby was delighted.

“We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you,” Ron told him, “but it’ll go well with your tea cozy.”

As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Bianca, Charles, and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies.

“Thanks a lot!” Charles cheerfully said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. “See you, Dobby!”

“Charles Potter... can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?” Dobby asked tentatively.

“’Course you can,” Charles said easily, and Dobby beamed.

“You know what?” said Ron, once they had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. “All these years I’ve been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens — well, it’s not exactly difficult, is it? They can’t wait to give it away!”

“I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know,” said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. “Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it’ll dawn on them that they want that too!”

“Let’s hope they don’t look too closely at Winky,” Bianca said.

“Oh she’ll cheer up,” Hermione insisted, though she sounded a bit doubtful. “Once the shock’s worn off, and she’s got used to Hogwarts, she’ll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man.”

“She seems to love him,” said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).

“Doesn’t think much of Bagman, though, does she?” Charles mused. “Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?”

“Probably says he’s not a very good Head of Department,” said Hermione, “and let’s face it... he’s got a point, hasn’t he?”

“I’d still rather work for him than old Crouch,” said Ron. “At least Bagman’s got a sense of humour.”

“Don’t let Percy hear you saying that,” Hermione said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, well, Percy wouldn’t want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?” said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. “Percy wouldn’t recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby’s tea cozy.”

They all laughed at that