coyotegoth | Albus Severus update

A while back, I began this story, in which Albus Severus Potter comes to Hogwarts, only to discover that Slytherin House is being re-opened after a nineteen-year shutdown. I hope to have the next chapter finished over the weekend; in the meantime, this is a scene in which Albus encounters the house elves of Hogwarts for himself, and sees how things have changed for house elves over the last nineteen years.

By comparison, Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors was almost a relief. Professor Weasley held the class outside, near the Quidditch pitch; he told interesting stories about dragons (which Albus pretended not to have heard before), and generally kept the Gryffindors too distracted to give Albus and the other Slytherins a hard time. When class ended, Albus slipped away, as Professor Weasley politely dissuaded the students who wanted him to sign their copies of Quidditch Weekly. As Albus neared the castle, he heard someone say, “Albus Potter...?”

He turned; a house elf was looking up at him. “Yes?”

“I is one of the kitchen elves, Albus Potter. I is wanting to apologize for what happened with your breakfasts.”

“Oh- that’s all right.”

The house elf met his gaze steadily. “We was given false instructions, Albus Potter. It will not be happening again. You has my word on that.”

“Thank you,” Albus said. “Err- what’s your name?”

“I is Creevey, Albus Potter.” The house elf paused. “Does you have a moment to spare? I is wanting to show you something.”

“Err- all right.”

The house elf reached out, and took Albus’s hand. There was a wrenching sensation; when Albus’s vision cleared, they were on a cliff, by the seaside.

“Where ...oh,” he said. A few yards before them was a statue of a house elf; embedded in the foundation of the statue was a stone tablet, reading HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF

“We is having this made to honor him,” said Creevey quietly. “We is paying for it ourselves, out of our Hogwarts wages. I is wanting you to see it, before we has the ceremony for dedicating it.”

Albus stepped forward, and silently ran his fingers over the letters carved into the stone, before looking up at the image of the house elf. “He saved my father’s life,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Creevey replied. “Dobby was a great house elf.”

Albus paused; he looked from the statue to Creevey, and back again. “Could...” he finally said. “That is- would it be all right to leave something, as a token of respect?”

The house elf looked up at him, and nodded. “We would be honored, Albus Potter,” he said simply. Albus balanced awkwardly on one foot, and pulled his sneaker off; he removed his sock, and laid it gently on the foundation. “I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet you, Dobby,” he said. “You were a great house elf, and you saved my father’s life.” Then he stood there, looking at the letters his father had carved into the stone, as Creevey silently took a sock from his own pocket, and laid it down. Creevey bowed his head; Albus pulled his sneaker back on, and then bowed his own; neither of them spoke for several minutes.

“I is going to stay for a while, Albus Potter,” Creevey finally said, as another house elf walked up. “This is Hedwig; she is taking you home.”

“All right,” Albus said quietly. He turned, and followed Hedwig as she walked for a moment, away from the statue. In the background, he could see his uncle’s house; a figure was working in the garden. There was a pause; he turned and looked at Hedwig, who was looking out over the water.

“We is going in a moment, Albus Potter,” Hedwig said.

Albus nodded; Hedwig turned, and looked back out at the ocean. The sun was just beginning to set, and striations of orange and purple were painted across the sky. A gull cried; Hedwig made an answering call.

“I is named after a bird,” Hedwig said quietly, as she watched the gull soar. “Sometimes, when I comes here, I dreams I is a bird, and I is flying until I can touch the sky, and it feels warm to me, like fire’s embers or mother’s touch.” She turned to look at him. “I think you is going to be having a hard year, Albus Potter, but we is helping if we can.” Then she took his hand, and the gull’s next cry was met with silence.