Chapter 5. Arrival.
The rest of the journey to Hogwarts passed quietly enough. Hermi sat as still as a mouse, and Daphni didn't disturb my thoughts either. Though I didn't spend very long in thought — I soon pulled out one of my textbooks and immersed myself in the material. Hermi tried a couple of times to peek over my shoulder, but not understanding what I was reading, she didn't bother me.
The only interruption came near the end of the journey, when I had to step out of the compartment so the girls could change, after which they stood in the corridor while I quickly threw on my robes. Then we watched the landscape outside the window begin to slow.
It was already late evening when the train arrived at Hogsmeade station.
"Wait..."
I stopped Hermione, who was about to dart out of the compartment.
"What?"
"Right now out there..."
I nodded toward the door, behind which a noise and commotion could already be heard.
"...there's a whole crowd of children who will trample you and not even notice. So I suggest we wait a couple of minutes before heading out."
"Em... all right..."
She nodded and sat back down on the seat, though it was plain to see she was practically bursting with the urge to get out of the compartment and be on her way to Hogwarts as quickly as possible.
"Can't wait?"
"Mmhm..."
She glanced at me, made the sound, and nodded.
"Not long now — another two minutes and we can go."
"Mmhm..."
She nodded again.
And when the frenzy behind the door had died down, I finally opened it and our small group made its way toward the exit of the carriage. Before letting the girls step off, I cast one of the variations of Lumos, which hung floating above me. Once we had some light, I offered my hand first to Daphne, then extended it to Hermi, who climbed down from the carriage looking thoroughly flustered.
"Does it not embarrass you?"
She addressed Daphne, and my faithful attendant gave a small shrug.
"I am my lord's loyal attendant, and he is well-mannered. He is simply showing basic courtesy right now. So I see no reason to be embarrassed."
"I... I see..."
From Hermi's tone it was perfectly clear that she saw nothing of the sort, but she decided not to pursue the matter.
Meanwhile, several children from old wizarding families had also conjured little floating lights above their heads, so the area around the train became considerably brighter.
"Pff..."
"What?"
Hermi looked at Daphne, whose snort had carried a slight note of contempt.
"Pure-bloods..."
There was the same faint contempt in Daphne's voice.
"...they didn't even think to use magic until they saw my lord light his. They've grown too used to their manor houses where the house-elves do everything for them."
"House-elves?"
Hermi latched onto the unfamiliar term.
"Magical servants."
Daphne considered this a perfectly sufficient explanation — but I did not.
"Not so much servants as parasites, really... A long time ago, nearly five hundred years back, they were pests, covered in the Defense equivalent of the time. Students learned methods for driving them out and destroying them. But later, a chimaeologist performed a series of experiments on these parasites, as a result of which they acquired sentience. After that, it was decided not to exterminate them, but to put them to use instead. Especially since they need magic to survive — wizards pay them with magical energy and a place to live, and in exchange they do all the household work."
"But that's... slavery..."
Hermione stared at me in shock.
"Not at all..."
I shook my head.
"...how to put it... Hmm... For instance — could your parents take in a homeless person?"
"What?"
Hermi looked thrown off by my question.
"It's a slightly exaggerated example, but in general..."
I shrugged in a way that conveyed I hadn't thought of anything better.
"...I imagine it wouldn't be a problem for them to shelter a homeless person and share their food — so why don't they?"
"Well..."
Hermione didn't have an answer.
"In most cases, the answer is actually embarrassingly simple. On one hand, they don't particularly care either way — but on the other, they're concerned for your wellbeing, and a stranger with no family ties to yours is a potential danger to that family."
"Has everyone gathered?!"
Hagrid's shout cut me off.
"Harry! Harry, are you here?!"
One of the first-years made his way over to the half-giant, but I couldn't have cared less about that, so I quickly refocused on Hermione.
"So — for the wizarding world, house-elves are rather like those homeless people, except that they also come with a peculiar sort of magic. And not everyone would be willing to take them in. Especially since without strict supervision they can begin to multiply, and very quickly the magic of an ancient house would no longer be sufficient to sustain them — at which point they would turn on the wizards themselves. That's why, almost immediately after they came into being, rituals were performed on house-elves, and they are now bound to enter into a contract of service with wizards. They serve by performing household work, in exchange for which wizards share with them the magic they need to survive. Though..."
I grimaced slightly.
"What?"
Hermi looked at me in surprise.
"...there are some rather irresponsible wizards who starve their house-elves, so to speak, and the house-elves then start to hurt themselves."
"Hurt themselves?!"
Hermione was clearly both astonished and appalled.
"Yes — but the reason behind it is fairly straightforward."
"There's a reason for it?!"
"Yes, there is. Sustaining an injury triggers a forced drawing of magic from the owner, and a little more is drawn than strictly needed for healing. And some particularly clever house-elves will even inflict small injuries on themselves despite having perfectly adequate work."
"But... that's terrible!"
"Terrible."
I nodded in agreement.
"But it exists. It's..."
I looked thoughtfully at Hermi.
"...not exactly commonplace, but it does happen. In any case, don't let it weigh on you. To summarize what I've said — house-elves are paid workers who receive their wages in the form of magic. And among them are the particularly enterprising ones who extract a little extra magic through injuries they inflict on themselves."
"Em..."
"And yes — you'd do better to read about it in the library, where it's described in considerably more detail and with examples. Then you can draw your final conclusions afterward."
"All right."
She nodded.
"Everyone into the boats!"
Hagrid's voice carried over the crowd of chattering children following him along.
"Four to a boat! No more!"
I led the girls to a boat and helped them in, then climbed in myself. Fortunately, we were among the last and there was no fourth person in our boat.
"Everyone duck!"
"We bow — as a junior bows to a senior, to one wiser, one ready to take us under their wing."
Hermi looked at me in surprise, but apparently did as I said. It wasn't obligatory, in any case.
"Why?"
Her quiet voice made me smile.
"It's one of the legends. There's no confirmation of it, but one of my ancestors described in his diaries that when Hogwarts was created, a great many rituals were performed over it — which is true, since to this day no one has managed to unravel all the magic laid upon that old castle. But my ancestor wrote that a respectful bow before being enrolled allowed you to count on the help of the castle itself, in which the many layered rituals had given rise to a kind of pseudo-consciousness."
By then the small boats had pulled up to the opposite shore, and we were led inside the castle.
"Professor McGonagall, I've brought the first-years."
"Thank you, Hagrid..."
"Trevor!"
A slightly pudgy boy rushed toward the professor's feet and scooped up some creature that had been sitting there.
"Ahem... Now then, I will take you to the antechamber, where you will wait for your sorting."
The Deputy Headmistress's voice carried over the children, bringing them all to quiet.
"There you will wait until you are called into the Great Hall, where your sorting will take place."
And we were indeed led into an antechamber and left to our own devices.
"Harry, whatever you do, don't go near that blond one! He's a Death Eater!"
I winced almost imperceptibly, but ignoring that was no longer possible.
"Red hair and freckles..."
I shook my head.
"...you failed to get a rise out of me on the train, so you've decided to try here? Come now, why have you gone quiet? Though — if you apologize right now, I'll be willing to overlook the fact that your tongue runs away with—"
"Oh right! As if! Everyone knows that everyone in your family served You-Know-Who!"
"Oh?"
I tilted my head to one side.
"So you're accusing our esteemed Ministry of..."
I made a show of pondering this.
"...actually, what exactly are you accusing them of? Because every member of my family who was accused of such a thing appeared before the court and proved their innocence. And yes, I am still giving you the chance to avoid consequences — all you have to do is apologize."
"Not a chance! You're a Death Eater-bred little rat!"
I had been walking slowly toward Weasley as I spoke — seemingly without any menace — so that by the time he was screaming this in my face, the spittle that flew from his mouth landed on me. I didn't care. Without drawing back, I punched him in the stomach, releasing a small pulse of magic with the blow, and he doubled over immediately and began to retch.
Harry moved to do something, but the hands of two Indian-looking girls held him back. My foot came down on the back of the redhead's head and pushed his face into his own vomit.
"Weasley, I am the only man in my family, and for an insult to my beloved mothers I am prepared to tear throats out — the same as for my late father. So I am warning you once — first and last time. Say one more thing about my family and I won't stop at a single punch. I will challenge you to a formal magical duel and put you away so thoroughly that you'll spend a month in the hospital wing."
I lifted my foot from his head and let him start to raise himself, then kicked him in the shoulder with a second pulse of magic that knocked him onto his back.
The feeling in my chest was foul — I had beaten a child. But on the other hand, I understood perfectly well that remarks like those, made publicly, could not be left without consequence.
"And you, Potter..."
I looked at the boy, who was boring into me with an angry stare but saying nothing.
"...if you're going to keep someone like that as a friend, make sure he keeps his mouth under control. I'm an understanding and fairly restrained person — but any upperclassman your friend manages to insult with that unbridled tongue of his will curse him so thoroughly it'll take St. Mungo's to remove it."
Harry gave a slow nod.
"Good. One more thing..."
I had already turned away, but I looked back toward Potter.
"...make sure your friend doesn't lie about what happened here. I couldn't care less either way, but if anyone decides to take his side, I'd want those people to know exactly what the quarrel was actually about."
"All right..."
He nodded again, after which I returned to Daphne and Hermi.
"My lord, hold still a moment..."
Daphne quickly produced her wand and cast cleaning charms on my shoes and trousers, then slipped the wand back into its holster.
"There — I'm finished."
"Thank you..."
In the midst of all that, we had somehow missed the arrival of the ghosts.
"My word... I do hope you, young man..."
Nearly Headless Nick hovered above Weasley.
"...do not end up in my House. We may be brave and reckless, but we do not tolerate insults to one's own family or another's."
He shook his head, and the movement sent his head swinging away from his neck to hang by the strip of skin that a poorly aimed axe had once left behind.
"Young man, I hope you do not end up in my House..."
The Bloody Baron, ghost of Slytherin, drifted to hang above me.
"To be candid — while I had considered your House, as the one where my ancestors were educated, I found myself drawn rather more to the House of the esteemed Helena."
I gave a nod to the ghost of the girl who was floating a little apart from the main group of students, and she, noticing my nod, offered a small curtsy in return.
"Very good..."
The Baron nodded approvingly — while Weasley, at Nick's words, had begun to tremble with fear, evidently unable to imagine himself ending up anywhere else. Well... perhaps that fate would pass him by. Though it seemed doubtful, since now it would be the only thing he could think about.