Chapter 5 — Arrival
The remainder of the journey to Hogwarts passed quietly enough. Hermi sat without a word, and Daphne likewise refrained from disturbing my thoughts. Though I was not lost in thought for very long -- I soon pulled out one of my textbooks and settled into studying. Hermi tried a couple of times to peer over my shoulder, but not understanding what I was reading, she left me in peace.
The only interruption came near the end of the journey, when we had to step out of the compartment so the girls could change, after which they stood in the corridor while I quickly pulled on my robes. Then we watched as the landscape outside the window began to slow.
It was already late evening when the train pulled into Hogsmeade station.
"Wait..."
I stopped Hermione, who had been about to dash out of the compartment.
"What?"
"Right now out there..."
I nodded towards the door, behind which noise and commotion were already building.
"...there is an entire crowd of children who will trample you and not even notice. So I suggest we wait a couple of minutes before going out."
"Er... all right..."
She nodded and sat back down, though it was plain to see she was practically bursting with the urge to get out of the compartment and get to Hogwarts as quickly as possible.
"Impatient?"
"Mm-hmm..."
She shot me a quick glance, made a sound of agreement, and nodded.
"Not to worry -- just two more minutes and we can go."
"Mm-hmm..."
She nodded again.
When the noise beyond the door had finally settled, I opened it at last and our small party made its way out of the carriage. Before allowing the girls to step down, I cast one of the variants of Lumos, which hung suspended above me. Once everything was illuminated, I offered my hand first to Daphne, then to Hermi, who took it with considerable embarrassment and climbed down from the carriage.
"Doesn't that feel strange to you?"
She addressed Daphne, and my faithful attendant gave a small shrug.
"I am my lord's attendant, and he is well-mannered. What he is doing right now is simply basic courtesy. So I see no reason to feel embarrassed."
"I... I see..."
From Hermi's voice it was perfectly clear that she did not see at all, but she decided not to pursue the matter.
Meanwhile, several students from old wizarding families had also conjured floating will-o'-the-wisps above their heads, so the area outside became considerably brighter.
"Hmph..."
"What?"
Hermi looked at Daphne, whose small sound had carried a faint edge of contempt.
"Purebloods..."
The same light contempt remained in Daphne's voice.
"...they didn't even remember they were wizards until they saw my lord light his. Grown too used to their house-elves doing everything for them back in their manors."
"House-elves?"
Hermi caught the unfamiliar term.
"Magical servants."
Daphne clearly considered this a perfectly sufficient explanation. I did not agree.
"Not so much servants as parasites, really... A long time ago -- nearly five hundred years -- they were pests, and they were covered in Defence Against the Dark Arts, or whatever its equivalent was at the time. Students learned methods of driving them off and destroying them. But later, a Magizoologist conducted a series of experiments on these creatures, as a result of which they gained sentience. It was decided not to exterminate them but to put them to use. They need magic to survive, you see, so wizards provide them with magical energy and a place to live, and in exchange they carry out all the household work."
"But that's... slavery..."
Hermione stared at me in shock.
"Not at all..."
I shook my head.
"...let me think of a comparison... Hmm... For instance -- have your parents ever taken in a homeless person?"
"Sorry?"
Hermi looked thrown by the question.
"Well, the example is a little exaggerated, I'll admit, but broadly speaking..."
I shrugged, as if to say it was the best I had.
"...I imagine it would not be beyond them to take in a homeless person and share their food -- so why don't they?"
"Well..."
Hermione had no answer to that.
"In most cases the answer is actually quite simple. On one hand they simply don't think about it, and on the other they are concerned for your safety -- an outsider with no ties to the family is a potential danger to that family."
"Is everyone here?!"
Hagrid's shout cut me off.
"Harry! Harry, are you there?!"
One of the first-years made his way through to the half-giant, but I cared very little about that, so I quickly turned my attention back to Hermione.
"So -- for the wizarding world, house-elves are rather like homeless creatures with peculiar magic. Not everyone would be willing to take them in. Especially since without firm oversight they can begin to multiply, and very quickly the ancient magic of a house is no longer sufficient to sustain them all -- at which point they will turn on the wizards themselves. That is why, almost immediately after their creation, certain rituals were performed over house-elves, binding them to seek a contract of service with wizards. They serve by carrying out domestic work, and in exchange wizards share with them the magical energy they need to survive. Though I will say..."
I winced slightly.
"What?"
Hermi looked at me in surprise.
"...there are certain not-very-responsible wizards who, in a manner of speaking, starve their house-elves -- and when that happens, the house-elves begin to hurt themselves."
"Hurt themselves?!"
Hermione was visibly horrified.
"Yes. But there is a fairly straightforward reason for it."
"There is a reason for this?!"
"Yes, there is. Sustaining an injury triggers a forced draw of magic from the master, and slightly more is drawn than is strictly needed for healing. Some particularly cunning house-elves even inflict small injuries on themselves despite having perfectly adequate work."
"But... that's awful!"
"It is awful."
I nodded in agreement.
"But it exists. It is..."
I glanced thoughtfully at Hermi.
"...not exactly commonplace, but it does happen. In any case, don't dwell on it. To sum up what I said: house-elves are contracted workers who receive payment in the form of magic. And among them there are particularly clever ones who extract surplus magic by means of injuries they inflict on themselves."
"Er..."
"And yes -- you would do better to read about it in the library, where it is all laid out in considerably more detail and with examples. Draw your conclusions after that."
"All right."
She nodded.
"Everyone into the boats!"
Hagrid's voice rose over the chattering crowd of children following at his heels.
"Four to a boat! No more!"
I guided the girls to one of the boats and helped them in, then climbed in myself. As luck would have it, we had gone last, and no fourth passenger ended up in our boat.
"Everyone duck!"
"We bow -- as a junior bows to a senior, to one wiser, one ready to take you under their wing."
Hermi looked at me in surprise but, by all appearances, did as I said. Though it was not strictly required.
"What's that for?"
Her quiet voice made me smile.
"It is one of the old legends. There is no proof of it, but one of my ancestors described in his journals that when Hogwarts was built, a great many rituals were performed over it -- which is true; no one has yet managed to untangle all the magic layered into that old castle. But my ancestor wrote that a respectful bow before one's enrolment allowed you to count on the castle's assistance -- that the countless rituals within it had created something like a rudimentary consciousness."
By then the small boats had drawn up to the far bank, and we were led inside the castle.
"Professor McGonagall, I've brought the first-years."
"Thank you, Hagrid..."
"Trevor!"
A slightly round-faced boy threw himself at the professor's feet and scooped up some creature that had been sitting by her shoes.
"Ahem... Very well. I shall now lead you to a room where you will wait to be called for your Sorting."
The deputy Headmistress's voice carried over the children, settling them into silence.
"There you will wait until you are called into the Great Hall, where the Sorting will take place."
And indeed we were led into a small antechamber and left to our own devices.
"Harry, whatever you do, don't talk to that blonde one! He's a Death Eater!"
I barely let the wince show, but ignoring this was no longer an option.
"Red hair and freckles..."
I shook my head slowly.
"...you failed to get a rise out of me on the train, so you decided to try again here? Well? Why have you gone quiet? Though if you were to offer an apology right now, I would be willing to overlook the fact that your tongue runs away with--"
"Oh, right! As if! Everyone knows your whole family served You-Know-Who!"
"Oh?"
I tilted my head to one side.
"So you are accusing our esteemed Ministry of..."
I made a show of pondering this.
"...actually, what exactly are you accusing them of? Every member of my family who was accused of such a thing stood trial and proved their innocence. And I am still offering you the chance to avoid consequences -- all it takes is a simple apology."
"Not a chance! You're a Death Eater's brat!"
I had been moving towards Weasley slowly and apparently without any menace throughout my last few words, so that when he screamed this into my face his spittle landed on me. I did not care. Without a wind-up I punched him in the stomach, releasing a small burst of magic into the blow, and he doubled over immediately and began to retch.
Harry made to do something, but two girls of Indian appearance each caught one of his arms. My foot found the back of Weasley's head and pressed it down into his own vomit.
"Weasley. I am the only man in this family, and I will tear out anyone's throat for insulting my mothers -- or for insulting my late father. So I am warning you once, and only once: if you say anything against my family again, I will not stop at a single punch. I will challenge you to a wizarding duel and I will put you in the hospital wing for a month."
I lifted my foot from the back of his head and let him raise himself, then kicked him in the shoulder with another small release of magic that knocked him flat on his back.
The feeling in my chest was unpleasant -- I had beaten a child -- but I also understood perfectly well that remarks of that kind, made publicly, could not be left unanswered.
"And you, Potter..."
I looked at the boy, who was staring at me with fury but saying nothing.
"...if you are going to keep a friend, keep him from running his mouth. I am an understanding and fairly restrained person -- but any older student your friend decides to insult with that tongue of his will curse him so thoroughly it will take St Mungo's to sort it out."
Harry gave a slow nod.
"Good. One more thing..."
I had already turned away, but I looked back at Potter.
"...make sure your friend does not lie about how this happened. I don't particularly care for my own sake, but if someone decides to take his side, I would like those people to understand exactly what the quarrel was about."
"All right..."
He nodded again, and I returned to Daphne and Hermi.
"My lord, one moment..."
Daphne drew her wand quickly and cast cleaning charms on my shoes and trousers, then slid her wand back into its holster.
"There. Done."
"Thank you..."
In the midst of all this, we had rather missed the arrival of the ghosts.
"Well... I do hope you, young man..."
Nearly Headless Nick hovered over Weasley.
"...do not end up in my House. We are brave and headstrong, yes -- but we do not tolerate insults to one's own family or anyone else's."
He shook his head, causing it to separate from his neck and hang by the strip of skin a long-ago axe had failed to sever cleanly.
"Young man, I hope you do not end up in my House..."
The Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin, drifted to a halt above me.
"To be honest, though I had considered your House -- as the House my ancestors attended -- I found myself more drawn to the House of the esteemed Helena."
I gave a nod to the ghost of the girl who was hovering slightly apart from the main cluster of students, and she noticed and responded with a light curtsy.
"Very good..."
He nodded with approval. Weasley, meanwhile, was trembling at Nick's words -- he evidently could not conceive of ending up anywhere else, and now that was precisely all he would be able to think about. Well. Perhaps fate would spare him -- though it seemed unlikely, given the state he was in.