Hallie

Her trunk was packed, her robes folded neatly and stacked on top of the books so they wouldn't wrinkle. Crookshanks was nothing more than a ginger cushion on the neatly made bed, which stood ready for one last night of sleep at Hogwarts. Her chart of classes, never to exist again, was stacked lovingly in her book bag. There was only one thing left to do, and Hermione wasn't sure she had the courage to do it. But not for nothing had she been sorted into Gryffindor.

The corridors were deserted, as they should be this late, and although the torches in their sconces gave off plenty of light, the castle seemed somehow dark and empty. Perhaps it was mourning, as they all were, for Albus Dumbledore and the others lost in that terrible fight just weeks earlier.

Footsteps down a wide stone passageway, a finger tickling a pear, and Hermione was inside the kitchens.

"Miss is not welcome here!" came a chorus of house-elf voices as the door closed behind her. "Miss is encouraging bad behavior!" said one shrill voice at her knees. She looked down to see Hallie, one of the more out-spoken of the lot, glaring up at her.

"I wanted to talk to you," she began, but protests covered the end of her sentence.

"Miss should leave!"

"It is all Miss's fault that we lost Winky!"

"Miss is not welcome here!"

"Go away!"

"Please," said Hermione desperately, "please! I wanted to ask you something! I'm not trying to--well, you know."

The angry voices abated, but the glares continued. "I just wanted to ask you why you like working here. You know, apart from it being house-elf duty and all that?"

There were some thoughtful looks, and then Hallie said, "Dumbledore was a good master, and McGonagall is just as good. House-elves is trained from birth to serve well and be glad for a roof over our heads."

Another elf--Zandy? Zannie?--spoke up. "If house-elves is given clothes, no house will want us."

"So it's tradition, then?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound judgmental. "You serve humans because that's just the way it is?"

There were some nods, although Hermione thought she saw a few thoughtful heads that were too busy thinking to nod.

"Well, that's very informative. Thank you." But as she turned to leave, a tug on her robes stopped her. It was Hallie.

"Miss isn't going to be telling us how we should ask for clothes? Miss always tells us!"

"But I've decided that tradition is too strong a force for me," sighed Hermione. Maybe this would work!

"Hallie is sorry that Miss has given up," said Hallie. "Can Hallie tell Miss a secret?"

"Of course you can," she said kindly.

Hallie looked around furtively, then, as no other elves were watching reached into her tea towel and drew out a small bundle.

"Oh, Hallie!" exclaimed Hermione. She recognized the lumpy knitting as one of her earlier attempts at elf socks.

"Hallie picked it up by accident, Miss," said Hallie solemnly. "And Hallie was very angry that Miss would be so rude to house-elves, but Hallie has decided that it didn't make any difference, Miss. I is still a house-elf. I still gets pleasure from cleaning and doing work for humans. And I has something to keep my feet warm at night."

Hermione grinned happily. "I'm happy for you, Hallie. And if you want, Professor McGonagall could pay you-"

"Hallie will not be paid!" she exclaimed shrilly. "Hallie is happy enough with her work," she insisted.

"But think of this, Hallie," said Hermione as gently as she could. "Wouldn't it be nice if you could give presents to your friends on Christmas? Or to the professors here who are so nice to you? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to do that, to buy them things to show how happy you are?"

Hallie looked thoughtful, then, pressing a finger to her lips, pulled Hermione down to whisper in her ear. "Would Miss like a present from Hallie?"

"Yes, I'd love a present from you," Hermione whispered back.

"Then Hallie will see Professor McGonagall tomorrow morning!" the elf said happily. "Hallie is happy to make Miss happy!"

After refusing eight separate offers of eclairs, chocolate cakes, and tea, Hermione made her way slowly up the stairs to her four-poster, trunk, and cat. Well, if she hadn't freed all the elves, at least one of them realized she could still be happy with a pair of socks.