Harry Potter and the Wizard's Apprentice

Chapter Nine

What the House Elves Know

Harry sat staring silently into his trunk, not moving a muscle. Then, all in one movement, he jumped up, grabbed his wand, and pointed it into his trunk.

"Reparo," he whispered hoarsely. The shards of mirror flew together. With a trembling hand, he reached down and picked up the newly repaired mirror. It sparkled deceivingly from the light ever growing in the tower window. He raised the mirror to his face with a trembling hand and saw... nothing. Only his pale, drawn face stared back at him. Disappointment and shame coursed through him. Why would this time be any different? Just because he had had a dream, he had foolishly thought that this time he would be able to see Sirius staring back at him from the mirror. Had he learnt nothing from last year? He should know by now not to trust anything he saw in his dreams.

"What's that you got there, Harry?" Ron's voice broke through the tomb-like silence.

Harry jumped and turned wildly about, too late to try to hide the mirror in his trunk. "It's nothing," he said curtly. He had been so sure that the dream had meant something...

Ron sighed, and Harry looked up to see hurt flash across Ron's blue eyes. He felt instantly guilty. Ron wasn't without worries, either. Hermione must be on her way to Diagon Alley by now.

"It's this mirror," he said quickly, trying to make up for his apparent rudeness. "Sirius gave it to me." He reached up and handed it to Ron, who sat at the foot of Harry's bed. Ron took it from him, looking mildly grateful.

"What does it do?" he asked curiously, turning the mirror over in his hands.

"Sirius and my dad each had one," Harry explained. "They used it to talk to each other when they had detentions."

Ron looked impressed. "Wicked. Where's the other one?"

"Huh?"

"The. Other. One," Ron said slowly, as if speaking to someone quite daft.

Harry frowned. "I assumed Sirius had it on him when he fell through... you know."

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, Harry. Sirius probably left in a hurry. D'you think he'd remember to grab the mirror on his way out? Owl Lupin, I bet he could check Grimmauld Place for you."

Harry stared at him. This actually made sense. "Ron," he said, "that's the smartest thing you've said all week."

Ron threw a pillow at his head. "Well, here's a better idea. Let's go to breakfast."

After eating his fill, Harry thought it would be a good plan to go ahead and visit Hagrid, even without Hermione there. It would be something to take Ron's mind off whatever it was exactly that Hermione was doing. They left the Great Hall and walked across the grounds. The air was hot and thick as thunderclouds gathered overhead.

"Ron-" Harry said suddenly, as an idea struck him. "You know when you have those funny memories?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, raising an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Well, can you call up specific thoughts? I mean, d'you think you have any memories in your head about my mirror? Maybe something about how it works?"

Ron was already shaking his head. "No, mate. I wish it worked that way. I don't reckon I'd have to study again, would I, if that were the case." He paused before resuming their path down to Hagrid's cabin. "It's all random. The most interesting thought I've had all week is that I suddenly knew how to clean all the coats of armour leading to the Great Hall. Who would've thought there were so many types of Magical Mess Remover?"

They didn't see Hagrid in his cabin, so they swung around the back, past the gigantic pumpkin patch, to see if he was out tending his gardens. They were just skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest when an eerie, blood curdling wail sounded around them. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and quickly pulled him down behind the nearest pumpkin.

"What do you think it is?" he asked Ron, who looked wide-eyed and pale. After a brief moment's panic, Harry realised that the sound was getting neither louder nor softer but kept on at the same ear-splitting pitch.

"I dunno," said Ron, "but it doesn't seem as if it's getting any closer, does it?"

Right about then a large, meaty hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder and it was all he could do not to yell with surprise. "Hagrid!" he exclaimed instead, looking up at the owner of the hand. "What is that noise?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid said, and waved the umbrella, which Harry had just noticed in his other hand, in a slash ward motion through the air. The wailing stopped immediately. "'Bout got used ter it. Goes off all the ruddy time. Too sensitive, it is. Starts its cryin' every time somethin' small as a pixie goes past." He reached out with both hands and helped pull Harry and Ron up from the ground. He did this so effectively that Harry felt his feet leave the dirt.

"Sorry," Ron interrupted, looking a trifle irritated. "But, what are you on about?" What's too sensitive?"

"Why, the alarm Dumbledore put around the Forbidden Forest, o' course." Hagrid said, looking surprised at the question. "Yeh heard what he said at the feast about how no one's s'posed ter enter- no matter what."

"Why is that?" Harry asked curiously, leaning down to brush leaves from the knees of his robes. "Is it because of the centaurs? Are they still hacked off about Firenze teaching at Hogwarts?"

Hagrid's expression darkened. "Nah... Well, they're still in a righ' state, but it's nothin' compared ter... other stuff."

"What other stuff?" Ron asked quickly, but something had caught Harry's attention. As he straightened and scanned the top of the forest, he saw that every few seconds a tree would shake violently, sending flocks of birds pell mell into the sky. He watched this phenomenon all the while Hagrid was talking, but now turned to look at him suspiciously.

"Hagrid," he asked, already shrewdly guessing at the answer. "There aren't more giants in the Forest, are there?"

Hagrid suddenly looked very shifty. "Well," he said finally. "Perhaps you two should come in for a cup o' tea." Ron and Harry exchanged dark looks before following him into the cabin.

"I was jus' abou' ter heat up some stew, if yeh'd care fer some," Hagrid offered as they sat down around his large, wooden table. He gestured with his hand towards a cauldron filled with broth, vegetables, and something that still appeared to be moving.

"Er... no, thanks anyway, Hagrid," Ron said quickly; his face turning an interesting shade of green.

"Besides, we just ate," Harry added, trying to push Hagrid's large boarhound, Fang, away as he attempted to lick the skin off Harry's face. "Why don't you just tell us about the giants?"

"Well, alrigh'... s'pose yeh wouldn't want any rock cakes?" Hagrid said evasively, looking hopeful. "No... I guess not," he mumbled, seeing the impatience written on their faces. "I didn't plan on it," he explained, looking at them imploringly as he poured their cups full of tea from a pitcher the size of Harry's head. "I was still in the middle of teachin' Grawpy how to write, yeh see, when the firs' one showed up."

"The first giant?" Ron interrupted excitedly.

"That's righ'," Hagrid said, sitting down next to them. "A female this time. Apparently, she left the pack some time after me an' Madame Maxime did, an' followed our scent. Clever girl." Hagrid got all misty eyed at this and Harry allowed him a minute of silence before impatiently reminding him to go on.

"At firs' I was real happy like. She an' Grawp got along righ' as rain, they did, an' I was glad he had a companion."

"And then what happened?" Ron asked a trifle breathlessly.

"And then the rest o' 'em showed up, startin' around the beginnin' o' July."

Harry's stomach flipped and suddenly felt as if it was filled with ice. "By 'the rest' you mean how many? Three? Four?" he asked Hagrid hopefully.

"Ten. Twelve in all if yeh count Grawp and Mathilda."

"Twelve," Ron gasped. "And Dumbledore knows?"

"'Course he knows. It's not an easy task tryin' ter hide that many giants," Hagrid said, beaming. "Like I said, he set up the alarms and everything. Great man, Dum-."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, cutting Hagrid off. "We know- Dumbledore's great. Listen, what are you doing with them all? Can we see them?"

Harry groaned. Ron, after all, had not been with him and Hermione when they encountered Grawp last year. Harry was not rushed for a third meeting with the giant.

"Maybe we should wait for Hermione," he said quickly, before Hagrid could reply. Ron's face fell, and Harry hated to be the one to remind him of Hermione's absence.

"Don' worry, Ron," Hagrid said kindly. "Dumbledore would never let somethin' happen ter one o' his students. 'Specially not our Hermione."

"Yeah, right," Ron said crossly. "Dumbledore would never let any of his students do anything dangerous... like go up against a basilisk, or a dragon, or- or..." he trailed off, looking cross.

Harry and Hagrid exchanged worried looks. "Come on Ron," Harry said finally. "Why don't we go practise Quidditch until she shows up? We need to anyway, if tryouts are next week."

Ron agreed to this reluctantly, and they bid Hagrid goodbye, with promises to return soon with Hermione.

They practised Quidditch the rest of the afternoon. Harry was relieved that Ron seemed to be playing as well as he did in the match against Ravenclaw last year. It was going to be hard enough trying to find replacement Beaters for Fred and George, and replacement Chasers for Angelina and Alicia without worrying about their Keeper having stage fright. It wasn't until the dark clouds that had gathered let loose a torrent of rain that they decided to call it quits and head up to the castle. Since it was almost suppertime, they headed towards the Great Hall, where tantalizing smells wafted invitingly toward them. They had almost made it when Professor McGonagall's crisp voice called to them from down the corridor. Harry and Ron turned to see her walking toward them, limping slightly.

"Blasted knee," she grumbled. "Still gives me a funny turn when it rains. Ever since last year-- oh, yes," she interrupted herself as she reached Harry and Ron. "Potter. Weasley. You'll be glad to know Miss Granger has returned to the castle safely. I have talked Madame Pomfrey into letting you two visit her."

"Thanks, Professor!" Harry said and gave her a brief smile before turning to follow Ron, who had already started down the hall towards the infirmary, and for once, had seemed to forget about dinner.

Harry did not know what he expected Hermione to look like, but he found himself surprised that she did look so well. A bit peaky, perhaps, and paler than normal, but generally she looked the same as she always did. He and Ron had entered the infirmary only to be greeted by glares from Madame Pomfrey, who reluctantly led them to the bed Hermione now occupied.

Hermione smiled warmly at them, as they went to stand on opposite sides of her bed.

"So... how are you feeling?" Harry asked finally, when it became apparent the Ron was just going to stand there and stare at Hermione, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Oh, quite well, actually. Tired though, to be honest." Hermione admitted. "Dumbledore said I would be for a few days, but I should be able to attend classes on Monday-- thankfully, I would hate to start out the year by missing some of our first lessons."

"Yes, what a tragedy," Ron said, having found his tongue at last. He rolled his eyes at Harry. "Only Hermione would come through a life threatening situation and be glad she didn't miss any classes."

Hermione frowned. "I keep telling you-- it wasn't a life threat--,"

"How did you do it?" Harry asked, interrupting her. "I mean, how does the spell work, exactly?"

Hermione perked up at this. "Well," she said, sitting up more and bed, her eyes sparkling, a startling contrast to her pale face. "I'm glad you asked. It's all very interesting. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall chanted a long incantation-- I'll have to look it up in the library-- and then Professor Dumbledore performed the spell."

"What kind of spell?" Ron asked, leaning forward expectantly.

She bit her lip. "You know, it's funny. It wasn't like any spell I've ever seen before. It was more like a ... blend... of spells."

"A blend?" Ron repeated, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yes. It started out as a type of binding spell... with a memory charm... and then some kind of shield charm, I believe. Except, I don't think it was a standard combination. I think it was a mix of each one personalised for my parents and me. I don't think that any two Fidelius charms would be alike."

Harry boggled to absorb this new information. He had thought that all spells were basically the same; he had no idea they could be customised. This discovery opened a completely new world of possibilities. He was only just realising how much he still had to learn about magic.

They stayed in the infirmary as long as they could discussing the magical possibilities this new information presented. Madame Pomfrey must have been in a generous mood that evening, because it was well after dinner before she shooed them out ("My patient needs rest!"). It wasn't until then that Harry realised how hungry he was, and he had no trouble convincing Ron to sneak down to the kitchen before heading up to Gryffindor Tower.

Since it was almost close to curfew, the corridors were almost empty as they walked the route to the now familiar painting of a bowl of fruit. Clutching his rumbling stomach with one hand, Ron reached out and tickled the green pear. It giggled madly as the heavy door swung open and Harry braced himself for the inevitable whirlwind that was Dobby the house elf. However, there was not a single house elf to be seen...

"Where d'you think they've gone?" Ron asked, peering around the empty kitchen. "I hope they haven't got that spew nonsense into their heads and been put off cooking."

"Of course they haven't," Harry said. "You've been eating their food, haven't you?" Besides, I hear voices. Come on." He led Ron through the large kitchen, past bright pots sparkling invitingly, and through a door in the back into another room they had never been in before. It was dark, but a flickering green light from the back allowed them to see rows of food stacked so high on shelves that they were unable to see where it ended in the dimly lit ceiling.

"Wow," Ron breathed. "How is it that we're just now finding this? Let's just grab some and go; we could get a whole week's worth of food if we wanted."

Harry was not listening. He crept towards the voices, which seemed to be coming from the same place as the light. As he reached the end of one aisle, and peered around the shelf, he saw all of the house elves gathered around an enormous marble fireplace. It wasn't until a man's voice spoke that he realised there was a head amongst the burning flames. Dumbledore. Harry held his breath, and strained to hear what the headmaster was saying.

"...given you all the known risks. You are free to choose, and whatever you decide will--,"

CRASH.

Dumbledore's voice stopped abruptly and his head disappeared from the fireplace. Harry and all of the house elves jumped in surprise, turning to see what caused the commotion. It was Ron.

Ron looked sheepishly at Harry. At his feet lay several broken jars, their contents spilled out onto the floor.

"I was trying to reach for some marmalade near the top, but when I pulled the jar, the rest came down with it," he whispered guiltily.

Harry shook his head exasperatedly, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a squeaky voice.

"Harry Potter, sir, what is you doing here?"

Harry and Ron turned to see all of the house elves gathered, staring at them, their lamp like eyes glowing eerily in the fire light.

"I, er, I mean, we, were just coming to see if you had any extra food left over. We missed dinner--."

"Of course," Dobby said, nodding enthusiastically. "Anything for Harry Potter and his Wheezy. But, you must go back into the main kitchen. You isn't allowed back here, sir."

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but before he could get a word out, dozens of tiny hands pressed on the small of his back, shoving him and Ron out into the room beyond.

"Dobby," Harry said, once he and Ron were seated at the heavy, oak table, now laden with trays of delicious looking food and pitchers of pumpkin juice. "What was Dumbledore talking to you about?"

"Dumbledore?" Ron asked, looking around, puzzled. "Where?"

"In the fireplace," Harry said quickly. "I'll explain later."

Dobby looked increasingly uncomfortable. He had been wearing one of the hats that Hermione had knitted last year, but now was twisting it in his hands. His long fingers were clamped tightly around the wool, his knuckles turning white.

"Ooh, I wish you wouldn't ask such things, Harry Potter, sir. We isn't supposed to talk about it."

"Dobby," Ron said kindly, catching on. He leaned forward to take the elf by the shoulders. "Your secret is safe with us."

"Dumbledore said something about you being free to choose," Harry continued. "Free to choose what?"

Dobby hesitated, looking torn, and then said in a whisper, "Free to choose whether or not we is to be free house elves, sir." Dobby made to bang his head against the table leg, but Harry pulled him back by the collar of his thin tea towel.

"But that's no secret," he said, "Hermione's been trying for ages to free the house elves. What else is there, Dobby?"

Dobby's ears drooped. "Dumbledore is wanting the house elves to have a choice, sir, in case the war is brought to Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. Well this makes no sense. He exchanged a confused look with Ron.

"But what does that have to do with the price of dungbombs in Hogsmeade?" Ron exclaimed.

"A house elf's magical power is connected to his household, sir," Dobby explained. "We is stronger in magic when we is enslaved so that we can protect our owners. If we is freed, we is no longer required to protect our household, but we is weaker in return." He brightened suddenly. "Dobby volunteered to give up his freedom to help protect Hogwarts, but Dumbledore is saying no. Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to protect Harry Potter instead."

Harry stared at Dobby in disbelief.

"Ya hear that, Harry?" Ron said heartily, slapping him on the back. "Your very own house elf. Who says being a hero doesn't have its perks?"

Just then, footsteps were audible right outside the door, echoing outside in the stone corridor. Dobby froze, and turned his large, bat-like ears in the direction of the sound, obviously straining to listen.

"Those is Filch's footsteps. Follow me, Harry Potter. Quickly!"

Harry and Ron rose from the table and followed Dobby who was scurrying quickly into the back room.

"In here, in here," Dobby said, gesturing towards the large fireplace. He shoved a pot of Floo powder at them. "Bye, now," he said hurriedly as Filch's nasally voice called from the room they had just left.

"Peeves has struck again! I'm going to need some help in the trophy room..."

Harry dipped his hand into the pot and threw the powder into the fire. Flames surged and turned a brilliant green.

"Ready?" he asked Ron, who was hastily trying to swallow the last of a butter cream pastry.

"Yemph," he mumbled thickly, spraying a mouthful of crumbs.

Harry grabbed a fistful of Ron's robes as they stepped into the fireplace-- Ron had to stoop to fit inside.

"Gryffindor Tower," Harry said.

"Grufflewhump," Ron said.

They were jerked back and in a flash found themselves hurtling through the Floo network. Harry tried to make out the different fireplaces as they flew by. He fancied he saw Professor Snape stirring a cauldron in one, but they passed by too quickly for him to be sure. Then, as suddenly as they started, they stopped and were thrown onto a cold stone floor. The flames flickered in the hearth behind them and went out, leaving them in darkness. Harry blinked to clear the afterimage of the fire from his eyesight, and barely made out an empty classroom. This was not Gryffindor Tower.

"Hey, this isn't Gryffindor Tower," Ron said as he tried in vain to brush soot off his robes.

"No kidding," Harry said dryly. "This is what happens when you Floo with your mouth full."

"What?" Ron said indignantly. "I clearly said Gryffindor Tower."

"No," Harry retorted, grinning at him. "I clearly said Gryffindor Tower. You clearly said 'grufflewhump.' I heard you."

"Well, nevermind," Ron said. "Let's see where we are and get back before Filch catches us."

Moving quietly, they crept towards the only door they could see. Outside of it, they could see the flickering light from a torch lit hallway. Harry peered his head around both ways and immediately recognised the two stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office.

"Hey! I know where we are," he said, feeling relieved. "We're in that classroom I hid in the other day. Let's go."

They stepped out into the hall, but as they passed the entrance to Dumbledore's office a sound of grating stone stopped them in their tracks. Harry turned to see a boy he had never seen emerging from the door to Dumbledore's office. He was of average height with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Besides the fact that he appeared thoroughly displeased, he looked completely ordinary, in a non-descript sort of way.

"What are you two looking at?" the boy snapped, brushing past them. "Sod off."

"That's no way to make friends if you're a new kid at school," Ron said to Harry, as they watched him retreat down the corridor.

"What makes you think he's new here?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well I've never seen him before, have you?" Ron asked. "He must be new or we'd at least recognise him."

"I dunno; I might not. What colour hair did he have again? Blonde?"

"Oh, who cares? Let's go on up to bed. I'm slee-e-py," Ron said, stifling a yawn and starting down the corridor.

By the time they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, they had forgotten about the boy completely.

10