It's always been there, really. Anyone who's ever worked or been in the service of a pure-blooded family knows about it. But since most of them end up dead, there's no wonder it's still a secret. From generations of ancient magic, right down to their roots, we've been there to support them. Not noticed, not respected, always a servant. And now, in some twisted way, we house elves have grown to love our masters, despite the evil lurking in their hearts.
Unflinching devotion, despite the orders, and somehow, somewhere in time, somebody bound it with a magical contract and went and destroyed our last vestiges of hope to finally be set free. And even now, the crue… kind people that they are, they're clever enough to forego the one way we can be freed… clothes. And that's why we had to unite. Hundreds of house elves across the world, I'm proud to say, make up the secret network of information. We never tell anyone, oh no, we love our masters too much for that.
But our kind are not just ANYONE. Dobby was a fool. There was kindness in his heart, oh yes, too much of it. Dobby felt that there would be a new age, a new dawn, if only the Boy Who Lived knew about it. Our kind doesn't keep secrets. We share those whispers we hear from our master, snitches of conversation, pieced together with the sheer intelligence of our kind with each other. We trust each other. Stupid fool had to go and break that trust. He took advantage of us, used us to tell the young Master. Oh, no, Winky will never forgive him for that.
We are the little knowledges of the world. The Hermione Miss was a fool as well. Always leaving little clothes and hats about for us elves to find. She didn't realize that times had changed. No longer were we so reluctant to serve our masters. However prejudiced they were, they kept us safe from the Dark Lord.
All those Masters and Mistresses at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry learnt about goblin wars, wizard wars, mountain troll wars, but never about our wars. The Great Elf Massacre was the bloodiest in all of the great history of the world. So bloody that it was erased from the minds of witches and wizards alike. So Winky sits her with her gin in her tattered pillow outfit, drinking, drinking, all because of Dobby.
Dobby has dragged Winky into this pile of dirty messes, and now all Missy can do is try to forget, forget the punishments her master will surely give her if he finds out the terrible, terrible things Dobby has involved her in. She doesn't like it, oh no. Winky hates this circle of dependency that she has been forced into. The elves were independent, once upon a time. They weren't house elves, they were elves famed for their formidable magic and transportation abilities. Until someone found a way to chain those powers, and then the wizards took over.
Winky hates the trips that The Boy Who Lived, Miss Hermione and Master Ron make to visit them. They either feel guilty for something, or have come to take something. Winky has seen how much Master Ron loves food, oh yes, and she has seen how much Miss Hermione loves books. She has seen the thirst-for-revenge in Master Potter's eyes. They will fight, one day, Winky predicts. Their personalities are too different for them to get along. And there is only one Miss for the two Masters to share. One will love her, and one will be in love with her. Winky only hopes that the world does not suffer because of it.
Mistress McGonagall is nice to Winky. Mistress brings Winky ginger biscuits in a box in Mistress's tartan robes. She may have a strict face, but Winky knows that she is as soft as the pillows Winky fluffs for her Master in her heart.
Master has done bad things, very bad things. But Master was kind to Winky. Master was not like Senior Master. So Winky helped, and now Winky will keep her beloved Master's secrets for him. Dobby is insistent, oh yes. Dobby keeps pestering Winky to stop her drinking, and tell, tell all the information she knows about the Dark side so that Dobby may help Master Potter.
Dobby is not the Dobby Winky knows when Winky first met Dobby, oh no. Dobby was serviced to the Noble House Of The Malfoys then. Dobby is happier now, but there is no one to protect him. Winky knows Dobby will die in the upcoming war, and yet Dobby refuses to listen to Winky.
The other elves are scared as well. They pour out their heart in the kitchens, making so many dishes, piles upon piles of food, so many that even Winky can barely count them. And Winky knows she knows a lot of counting.
When Winky will pass out after drinking, and wake up with a throbbing head, with magic too weak to cure Winky's ache, Winky will see Dobby waddling around in those mismatched socks and crooked blue woolen hat with blurry eyes, and as much as Winky hates to admit it, Winky would love to own something like that as blue is her favorite color in the whole world. Winky is mean sometimes to the other elves, and they dislike Winky for it. Winky knows this. She doesn't want to get too close to anyone. Leaving hurts too much.
Winky goes outside the castle to the grounds, sometimes. Winky has her own special little spot in the Whomping Willow. It is a fearsome plant, yes. But everything needs to appear strong in order to survive in the wizarding world. Inside, deep inside the branches of the tree, Winky sits directly atop the trunk, where it is most peaceful. Winky thinks, then. And looks at the stars. Stars are beautiful. So far away, and yet so close. Untouchable, yet always there. A constant support. Winky likes how they twinkle and shine.
Winky leans against a branch, nimble fingers splayed out beside Winky, feeling, feeling the magic of the tree. The thrums of magic that ripple through its very core in steady, dependable waves. There is old magic inside the tree, Winky has realized, and it has knowledge far greater than her own. So she trades secrets with the Whomping Willow, because Winky knows that it will keep them for her. Winky is not stupid like Dobby. Winky will come off better in the bargain.
When Winky returns to the kitchens, Winky knows Dobby will be waiting for her. With such a disapproving look on his face, Winky will not be able to bear it. And so Winky drinks, drinks, to forget her fears, and then, and only then, returns, so that she will not remember anything.
Sometimes, Winky wishes she could forget everything. To go back to when she had Mama and Papa, amazing her with tricks, and teaching her the secret ways of their kind. Maybe, just maybe, that age will come again. If Master Potter manages to defeat the Dark Lord, Winky wishes he will help her set elves free.
Winky will still fold clothes and cook meals willingly, yes. Winky loves to do those things. But she will lead her own life, with no fear, no doubt, and Winky wants to be sure she will not die for being who she is.
An Elf.
Always.