"Alright then, let me, someone who's been hanging around the kitchens since first year, show you around." Anne grinned at Hermione playfully.
Hermione beamed and nodded.
"Okay, as you can see, the Hogwarts kitchen is located directly beneath the Great Hall. The food is sent up through the ceiling to the house tables above. There are 112 house-elves here, mainly responsible for preparing meals, cleaning the common rooms and fireplaces of each house, and even helping maintain the cleanliness of the castle itself. Otherwise, Mr. Filch would collapse from exhaustion, he doesn't really have time to be patrolling all the time catching students..."
"What about their working hours? Their workload?" Hermione asked.
"A good question," Anne said, nodding. "To be honest, they don't get time off. They work nearly every day." As she said this, she noticed the dissatisfaction and anger flash across Hermione's face.
"Wait, don't get mad just yet... Even though they don't have official holidays, their workload and hours drop significantly when we're on break. During those times, they're usually free to roam around the castle as they like. In fact, they probably know Hogwarts better than we do. Many of the elves here have served the school for generations."
"In other words, they're extremely loyal to Hogwarts..." Anne added with a meaningful look. "You probably know the history of house-elves. Typically, they serve the same family, or the same institution, for life."
"Typically? Are you saying there are exceptions?" Hermione asked, intrigued.
"Yes, there are. Every species has its outliers, doesn't it? The elf I want to introduce to you later is one of those exceptions. In fact, just a month ago, Hogwarts only had 110 house-elves."
Before Hermione could ask more, four house-elves came over carrying a silver tray with a cup of tea, a plate of whole wheat bread, a few croissants, and a small dish of sliced roast lamb.
Anne pulled Hermione over to a long table to sit down. Hermione politely thanked the elves, who bowed in return, then turned to Anne.
"Looks amazing, thank you all. Go ahead and get back to your work. I'll call if we need anything," Anne said, waving them off. The elves smiled and scurried away.
Hermione chewed her bread while casting a curious glance at Anne, clearly wondering why the elves treated them so differently.
"Hey! When I first came here, they bowed to me too. But don't forget, I've been hanging out here for over three years, and we often talk and exchange ideas."
"Exchange ideas?" Hermione latched onto that phrase with interest.
"Yes! Cooking, of course!" a high-pitched voice piped up. "Anne Laurence-Reeve cooks with the house-elves! They love cooking! They love Reeve!"
Two house-elves walked over. The one leading them looked very different from the others, he wore a tea cozy on his head, adorned with colorful badges, a tie with a horseshoe pattern around his bare chest, and mismatched socks with what looked like a child's soccer shorts.
"Ah, Dobby. You're here. Thanks, Gugu," Anne said warmly.
"Gugu is always happy to help Reeve!" said the elf cheerfully before bounding away.
"Dobby heard Anne Laurence-Reeve was looking for him! Dobby is so happy!" the elf said with delight.
"Uh, Dobby, you can just call me Reeve like the others. My full name is a bit long, and way too formal."
"Can Dobby really?" His giant, tennis-ball-sized eyes widened.
Anne nodded. "Of course you can!"
"Sto...Reeve Miss?" he tried uncertainly.
"Uhh..." Anne's smile twitched. "Can we drop the 'Miss' part too?"
"Sto...Sto...Reeve Miss? No... no... bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Dobby cried, shaking his head violently and trying to slam it into the table.
Anne quickly caught his arm and held it tight. "Dobby, I'm not mad! You can call me whatever you want, really."
"Reeve Miss..." Dobby murmured emotionally.
Anne's helpless expression made Hermione giggle.
"Back to the matter at hand, Hermione, are you done eating?" Anne asked.
Hermione nodded. "Yes," she replied, then asked, confused, "What matters?"
"...So what exactly did you drag me down here for? Who's the founder of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare again?" Anne thought. Wait, wasn't I supposed to lead the conversation tonight? And I still haven't explained that Dobby is the only elf here who gets paid. Gotta clear that up.
Anne sat upright and spoke more formally. "Let's start with introductions. Dobby, do you know who this is?" she asked, pointing to Hermione. She knew Hermione already knew about Dobby from their second year, and that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Anne, and Fanny had discussed him.
"Oh, Miss Granger! Dobby knows! Dobby read it in the Daily Prophet! Harry Potter's first love! Muggle-born, top of her class, just like Harry! Dobby can recite it all!" he squeaked excitedly.
Hermione shot up from her seat, blushing furiously. "That article was full of lies! Completely baseless! Dobby, I am not Harry's first love, not in the past, not now, and definitely not in the future!"
Dobby froze, his ears stiffening. Anne, surprised by Hermione's reaction, stared at her in confusion.
Hermione remained standing and explained to Anne, "I'm just... Harry and I are just friends."
"Uh... yeah! I know that..." Anne said, pulling her back into her seat. Still puzzled by Hermione's odd reaction, she chalked it up to nerves. "I believe you. You and Harry are friends. The Prophet is nonsense. Don't worry about it."
Dobby remained stunned for a while, then burst into self-punishment. He slapped his ears, tears welling in his eyes, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby said something awful about Harry Potter! Bad Dobby made Harry's friend angry! Harry will be mad at Dobby too!"
Seeing Hermione's flustered face, Anne quickly grabbed Dobby's arm and gently cradled his head. "Stop! Dobby, you didn't say anything bad about Harry. He won't be mad, I promise! I swear!"
"Really?" Dobby stopped trying to bash his head, though his ears were still smacking his face.
"Really! Harry's coming to visit you in a few days!" Anne added, then turned to Hermione. "Isn't Harry part of S.P.E.W.? I bet you're planning to bring him and Ron, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"See, Dobby? Harry's coming soon. He'll be so happy to hear you're here!" Anne said sincerely.
Dobby stopped slapping himself. His eyes sparkled. "Harry Potter is coming to see Dobby?"
Anne nodded firmly. As he nearly leapt with joy, she quickly shifted the topic. "Dobby, let's talk about Professor Dumbledore, shall we?"
"Ah! Professor Dumbledore, Miss Reeve! He gave us a home! You know, Miss, it's hard, very hard, for a dismissed house-elf to find a new job!"
Finally, Anne thought with relief, he's getting to the point.
Hermione immediately snapped to attention, realizing at last why Anne had insisted on bringing Dobby here, and why she'd called him a "special case."
"Dobby wandered for two years, miss, just to find a job!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby couldn't find one, miss, because now Dobby wants pay."
A few of the house-elves nearby, who had been watching curiously and listening intently, turned their eyes away at that. It was as though Dobby had said something crude or shameful.
"Good for you, Dobby!" Hermione said passionately.
"Thank you, miss!" Dobby grinned at her, showing a lot of teeth. "But most wizards don't want a paid house-elf, miss. 'That's not proper house-elf behavior,' they say. Then they slam the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes to work, but he also wants clothes, and wages… Dobby likes being free!"
Hermione gave him an encouraging look.
"And then, Miss Reeve," Dobby said brightly, "Dobby found Winky had been freed too!"
"Winky? She's here too?" Hermione lit up and began glancing around, as though she could pick Winky out from among the hundred other elves.
Anne felt her heart drop. Damn. I forgot to tell Dobby not to mention Winky yet!
Stay calm. Distract her!
"Hermione, let's let Dobby finish his story first?" Anne said gently. "We can look for Winky in a minute. Dobby, go on, quickly!"
But Hermione wasn't listening. Winky was the first real house-elf she'd ever met, and the very reason she'd founded S.P.E.W.
"She's in the kitchen? Dobby, can you take us to her?" Hermione stood up eagerly.
Anne made one last attempt. She winked at Dobby and mouthed NO, but house-elves were notoriously unable to refuse a direct order, especially Dobby, who adored Harry Potter's friends.
"Yes, miss! Winky is just over here in the kitchen!" Dobby said cheerfully, already leading the way.
Hermione grabbed Anne and pulled her along. "Come on, Anne! Hurry!"
Dobby stopped in front of a brick hearth and pointed.
"Look, miss! There she is!"
Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, who threw together mismatched clothes but kept them impeccably clean, Winky wore a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat that had holes for her large ears. Her outfit, however, was filthy, soup stains on her blouse, and a burn mark on her skirt.
"Hello, Winky," Hermione said softly.
But Winky didn't respond. Her lips trembled, and she stared blankly at the floor.
"Miss! Winky hasn't been very happy since she was freed. She's not like Dobby," Dobby explained.
The moment Winky heard the word freed, she burst into tears. Huge drops rolled from her brown eyes and splashed down her front, making her clothes even dirtier.
"Oh no," Hermione said, kneeling beside her. "Winky, please don't cry…"
"Anyway, what was Dobby saying? Oh right! Professor Dumbledore!" Dobby continued, utterly unfazed by Winky's sobbing. Anne figured he must be used to it, Winky cried nearly every time Anne visited the kitchen. Anne had long since given up trying to comfort her.
"After Dobby found Winky, Miss Reeve, he had an idea! 'Why not find a job together?' Dobby said. 'But where could two house-elves both find work?' Winky asked. Dobby thought and thought… and then remembered, miss, Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to Professor Dumbledore, and he took us both in!"
Dobby beamed, joy welling up in his eyes again.
"Professor Dumbledore said, if Dobby wants wages, he'll pay him! So now, Dobby is a free elf! He earns one Galleon a week and gets one day off a month!"
"That's not much!" Hermione said indignantly, her voice rising over Winky's sobs, who had now slid off her stool to cry on the floor.
"Professor Dumbledore offered ten Galleons a week and weekends off," Dobby said, shuddering as though the thought terrified him. "But Dobby bargained him down, miss… Dobby loves freedom, but not too much freedom. Dobby loves working even more!"
"Well then, "
"Wait, " Anne tried to stop her, realizing too late what Hermione was about to ask.
"And what about you, Winky? How much does Professor Dumbledore pay you?" Hermione asked kindly.
She had hoped this would cheer Winky up, but it had the opposite effect. Winky did stop crying, but only to sit upright and glare at Hermione with enormous, angry brown eyes. Her wet face twisted with rage.
"Winky is a dismissed house-elf, but Winky has not sunk so low as to take wages!" she shrieked. "Winky is ashamed of being free!"
"Ashamed?" Hermione echoed, bewildered. "But, Winky, listen to me! You shouldn't be ashamed, Mr. Crouch should be! You didn't do anything wrong, he was cruel to you, "
At that, Winky clapped her hands over her ears, pressing down her hat to block the holes. She began screaming.
"Don't you insult my master, miss! Don't you insult my Mr. Crouch! He is a good wizard! He was right to dismiss bad Winky!"
"Winky hasn't adjusted yet, Miss Granger," Dobby said sharply. "She forgets that she's no longer tied to Mr. Crouch. She could think differently now, but she doesn't know how."
"House-elves can't speak freely about their masters?" Hermione asked, shocked.
"Oh, no, miss, absolutely not," Dobby said seriously. "It's part of our enslavement, miss. We guard their secrets. We stay silent. We uphold the family's honor. We never speak ill of our masters, although Dumbledore says we don't have to obey that rule."
Dobby suddenly looked nervous. He whispered, barely louder than a mosquito, "He said… if we want… we can call him a batty old fool."
Dobby let out a frightened little laugh.
"But Dobby doesn't want to, Miss Granger," he said in his normal voice again, shaking his head so his ears flapped. "Dobby loves Professor Dumbledore. He is proud to guard his secrets."
Winky, meanwhile, had broken down again, muttering, "Bad Winky… poor Mr. Crouch… what will he do without Winky… bad Winky…"
Nothing Hermione tried could soothe her.
"It's okay, Miss Granger," Dobby said brightly. "Winky will cry for another hour or two, then she'll stop, because we have to clean the Gryffindor tower tonight! She gets back to normal when she works!"
Anne didn't think that was comforting, and judging by Hermione's expression, neither did she.
"Hey, Hermione… it's already half past eight. Should we head back?" Anne offered, trying to bring this visit to a close.
Hermione stayed kneeling, looking between Winky and Anne.
"Alright, alright," Anne sighed under Hermione's pleading gaze. "She stops crying, we leave. Is that the deal?"
Hermione nodded eagerly.
Anne crouched beside Winky. "Hey, Winky… did you know Mr. Crouch is in the castle? If he saw his trusted, reliable house-elf Winky reduced to a weepy mess, I don't think he'd be pleased. He'd want you to be the same capable Winky he once relied on. Don't you think so?"
Winky stopped sobbing, only sniffled now. She lifted her tear-streaked face and stared wide-eyed at Anne. "You say master is in the castle?"
Anne nodded seriously. "Yes. I saw him in the Great Hall not long ago."
Winky wiped her tears away in one big motion and stood up. "Good Winky! Good Winky must work hard! Yes! Winky must not shame her master's house!"
Dobby looked at Anne with awe. "Miss Reeve is amazing! No one else can stop crying Winky!"
"I just found her soft spot and used it. It's a temporary fix," Anne said matter-of-factly. "Now, Hermione, can we please go?"
Hermione stood, though her legs were stiff. Anne, quick as ever, caught her before she stumbled.
"You really are something else…" Hermione muttered.
Anne helped her walk to the kitchen's entrance. They waved goodbye to the reassembled house-elves and stepped outside.
"Legs still numb? Want to hop a bit?" Anne asked.
"I'm okay," Hermione said softly, trying to stretch.
"Good. Take a few steps, see if they're better."
Hermione walked a little. "All good!"
"Great. Let's go."
They passed through the warm-lit stone corridors, climbed stairs, then more stairs, until they reached a long, steep staircase.
At the bottom, they said goodbye. Anne tightened her scarf and turned to run back to her dorm, but Hermione called out.
"Anne! What does 'soft spot' mean exactly?"
Anne turned back. By the glow of the candlelight, she could see Hermione had only climbed three steps.
"There's an old Eastern saying," Anne said. "'If you want to kill a snake, aim for its seven-inch point.' 'Seven-inch' usually refers to a thing's weakness or critical spot. In other words, if you grasp a thing's seven-inch, you control it."
"I see. Then Anne, what's your seven-inch?" Hermione teased.
"I think it's Transfiguration class," Anne laughed. "My one true weakness. Alright, enough chatter, it's freezing out. Hurry back! Don't catch a cold. See you tomorrow!"
She pulled her hood up, tightened her scarf, and dashed off toward the Slytherin dorm.
"Transfiguration, huh?" Hermione murmured, then turned and started up the stairs.
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A/N: Tomorrow starts the Yule Ball arc…
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