They sometimes wonder whether they should stop. It's an amusing idea, amplified by just how vague "stop" is. Stop the charade and be themselves out in the open? Stop their search? Stop being, perhaps?
Probably not the latter. The thought has crossed their mind quite a few times more than would likely be considered normal - though it's not as if they care about being normal - but for now, the choice between being and not is an easy one.
Quitting their search is not an option. Even if they wanted to, they doubt they could. The world just doesn't have enough colour for them, so why should they stop trying to make it brighter, if only for a few moments? It's a drug, and they can't get enough of it.
They could go public. Escape this place and be on their own. They wouldn't need to pretend to be someone they're not, wouldn't need to fight on someone else's side and wouldn't need to put up with fools like Lockhart, Malfoy and Dumbledore.
But that has its downsides, too. Leaving would mean they have to leave everything behind, and they don't think they could do that. Betrayal is, of course, a nice colour in its own right, but the thought of it on Ron or Hermione is not pleasant. They don't know what that colour means, but they like the gentle golden glow around the two whenever they are near.
They aren't willing to leave the house elves behind either. The lot would understand if they left - and they said as much - but leaving them behind doesn't feel right. Winky and Blubber are the ones they care the most about, but they don't want to leave any of them. Unfortunately, their family magic - which they for some reason had to find out about on their own - is not enough to support all the elves they want to take away from this place, so, for now, the circumstances bind them.
On another note, the night turned out to be far more eventful than they planned. Who would have thought that the rat with oddly human colours would turn out to be not just an Animagus but a Death Eater at that? There are no complaints from them, however - the kitchen crew does always appreciate their gifts.
He had stayed hopeful until the end, the cyan glow of slyness oozing from his flesh until the very end, still thinking he could make it out alive if he talked pretty enough, but they were a professional, and no escape would come. It's a new mixture of flavours, the majority of their previous works having been dominated by fear, but it lacked something they can't describe and unlike their usual performances left them empty rather than fulfilled. They know not all artworks can be masterpieces, but it's still disappointing to have poured their heart and soul into their creation and have it come out hollow. No matter, they are almost at their destination.
Suddenly, there are footsteps behind them, and they immediately still themselves in response to the noise. Quiet rhythmic steps pass down the hallway but stop just a few feet behind them. They're barely breathing, trying to reduce the sounds they're making as much as possible, but as they turn their head, their heart sinks at the sight of Professor Snape.
For a few seconds, he stares down the hallway, listening in intently and his nose flaring out, almost as if trying to get a whiff of the intruder. Fortunately, they are far more familiar with charms now, and hiding scents comes as second nature. However, the man doesn't keep on his path but starts slowly scanning the hallway around him, seemingly intent on figuring out the source of whatever noise he'd heard. Seconds tick by, the man's head slowly turning - a constant pace of eight degrees a second - but then he stops, and one eye meets another.
Vermillion confusion turns to celeste curiosity, sable disapproval, a crackling fuchsia of begrudging respect and finally settles back to a near-translucent silvery fog of indifference. They briefly wonder what colour they might be right now.
He turns away and takes a deep breath. They don't move. He slowly raises his wand in front of him and gradually traces an infinity symbol starting in the middle and going up and to the right.
"Purgo," the man says, and a small ball of white light - almost identical to that of the Wand-Lighting Charm - leaps off his wand and hits a vase of orange tulips standing next to a wall, and suddenly the scent of flowers is gone. The only smells left are those of the cold bricks of the wall and of something sweet, almost like burned sugar.
"Use that. Purifico leaves a faint scent of liquorice." Unlike what they expected, he does not move, seemingly waiting for them. So, as quietly as possible, they repeat his motions, pointing their wand at the sack they drag behind them. Their charm glows weaker than his, but as it hits the fabric, practically dissolving into it, the sweet smell is gone.
Without making a sound, they turn back to Snape, but the man is already walking away. They wait until he rounds the corner before taking a few moments to compose themselves again.
They keep on their journey, having almost been at their destination when they encountered Snape. Keep along the left wall, find the painting with the basket of fruits, tickle the third pear from the right and the artwork will slide away, revealing a passage to the kitchen. They're not too happy when they have to cast the charm twice more, seeing how quickly it wears off, but their mood improves again at the sight of the charm getting brighter each time they cast it.
Climbing in they take off their cloak, stuffing it into the inside pocket of their cromson robe. Glancing at the clock on the wall, they smile apologetically to the elves as they realise they're late.
"Apologies for the delay, everybody. There was a predicament in the hallway. I bring good news and more, however. Pleasure and action make the hours seem short."
A common misconception among wizards is that house elves are nearly identical to humans. That they can do anything humans can and not an iota more. That could not be farther from the truth. The magic of elves is far more complex and powerful than that of wizards, one need only know how to use it. They are far more resilient than their frail looks would suggest, and old legends among the goblins tell of house elves who took on the roles of warriors to protect their wizards. But the most peculiar of all is their diet.
See, house elves are omnivores and will be happy to eat anything put on their plate, but they are far less picky than humans, and certain flavours are like nectar to the little creatures. The taste of human flesh, for example.
So when Jackie "Harry" Potter unties his bag and starts pulling out Peter Pettigrew's dismembered body, the house elves scream in glee, their sharp teeth faintly reflecting Jackie's glowing burgundy red right eye.