The witch's joke amused her more than anyone else; she laughed for quite some time before finally managing to calm down.
Once composed, Griselda Marchbanks began waving her wand in wide arcs, muttering the incantation under her breath. The enchantment wound itself around the boy and the house-elf alike. It was hard to say who was more nervous. Richard worried that the elderly witch might muddle something in the spellwork and, instead of becoming the master, end up the servant. Donky feared something else entirely—that the respected witch might change her mind and interrupt the spell, for he longed beyond measure for a master, and here he had found a remarkable wizard who had cared for him in his moment of need.
At last, Madam Marchbanks lowered her wand and declared:
"It's done!"
Richard closed his eyes and checked his sensations. At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed.
"Thank you, Tutor," the boy said, bowing respectfully.
Donky shone with happiness like a freshly polished Galleon. It seemed to him that there was no house-elf in the world happier than he was at that moment. Even his wounds were almost imperceptible in the wave of delight. The elf managed to get to his feet and even stand, though the ground swayed slightly beneath him.
"Lord, Donky is happy to serve you," the house-elf said, bowing low to Richard, his ears nearly sweeping the floor.
"Richard, will you stay for tea?" Madam Marchbanks asked.
"Forgive me, ma'am, I would gladly stay for five o'clock tea, but Father is very anxious."
"Oh, then I won't keep you, my boy. Go on and take your servant with you."
"Thank you very much, Tutor. Once again, I apologize for the sudden intrusion. All the best."
Richard, together with his now officially bound house-elf, used the portkey to return to the drawing room of Eaton Hall, where they were met by an agitated Gerald.
"Richie, what's going on? Why are you disappearing without warning?"
"Dad, who exactly was I supposed to warn that I'd be using a portkey? The guard, who by all rights shouldn't know anything about magic? Or you, who were downstairs? Great! Was I supposed to run up and down the entire house just to get permission to visit my tutor for a few minutes?! Weren't you the one who wanted me to be more independent? What's with the double standards? Make up your mind—do you want to see me independent and making decisions, or your subordinate who asks permission for every sneeze?"
The duke looked angry, yet he understood that his son was right. He himself had sent the boy off with an MI6 agent to gain experience handling crisis situations. And it must be said, the boy had managed rather well—albeit in a rather original fashion.
"What did Madam Marchbanks say?" Gerald asked instead of unleashing the reprimand that had been ready to burst forth.
"Tutor assured me that this house-elf is safe. And she also helped bind Donky's service to me with magic."
"I see. Son, you're not actually going to pass him off as a mutant dwarf, are you?"
"Dad, that was a good idea! But no, I won't. Once Donky recovers, he'll be able to turn invisible. Now, I have to go."
Richard headed to the kitchen and gathered food for the house-elf trailing closely behind him.
"Eat."
"Thank you, Lord. Forgive Donky. Donky will be well by tomorrow."
"Donky, tonight you'll stay in one of the empty servants' rooms. Then you'll take a shower and choose an outfit for yourself from my old clothes."
"Wizard Lord gives Donky clothes?!" The house-elf trembled in horror, looking utterly shocked.
"Are you stupid?" Richard snapped irritably. "Can't you see the difference between 'take some clothes yourself' and 'I give you clothes'?!"
"Forgive me, Lord…" The house-elf stopped crying. "So master does not give Donky clothes?"
"Now listen to me carefully! My staff must be the very standard of nobility, cleanliness, and perfection. People judge me—and the Grosvenor name as a whole—by my servants. If my servant goes around bare-assed, stinking, and wrapped in rags, people will think the Grosvenors have fallen on hard times. So either you, Donky, embrace the full importance of serving the Grosvenors and behave like a model butler—or I will, in fact, hand you clothes!"
The house-elf snapped to attention, sucking in his stomach and puffing out his chest. In the tone of a prim butler, he replied:
"Lord Grosvenor, Donky understands everything. What must Donky do?"
"That's better… Donky, my wardrobe is overflowing with old clothes that are too small for me. Once you've recovered, go through all of them. Whatever clothing and shoes fit you, keep as your working uniform. If necessary, adjust or hem them. Everything else will go to charity."
"Donky understands, sir."
"And don't let anyone see you except me and my lord Gerald Grosvenor, my father. Although… best not to be seen by him either."
"By tomorrow, Donky will be able to turn invisible again, master, sir."
"Excellent. The rooms for personal staff are at the end of the second-floor corridor. If I'm not mistaken, the last door on the left should be free. I won't keep you any longer."
Burdened with food, the house-elf shuffled off to search for his temporary bedroom.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
🥳Joining P@treon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰