Kitchen

After dinner, Hermione went back to the guest-room and put a plentiful supply of parchment into her bag. There was a spare quill in the drawer of the small desk provided for the use of guests – she Transfigured it into a Dictoquill and added it to her bag with a bottle of ink. Then she made her way down to the entrance hall and took the door to the left of the bottom of the staircase, into the kitchen corridor.

It felt strange to be there for legitimate purposes and without Harry and Ron. She reached the fruit painting, tickled the pear until it became a door handle, then entered the kitchen. It was very warm and smelt wonderful. Cleaned plates were being floated over to stack themselves on the shelves of the huge presses along the walls, and a group of elves was directing flour sacks to empty into an enormous mixing-bowl for the next morning’s bread.

Hermione found Dilly sitting in a high chair at a magnificent pigeonhole desk. The elf summoned a second, human-dimensioned, chair. ‘Miss is to be sitting here. Dilly is pleased to be answering Miss’s questions.’

‘Thank you, Dilly.’ Hermione glanced at the paperwork in front of Dilly, which appeared to be a list written in English with comments against some items written in elf-script. ‘Dilly, would it be possible for me to learn your language?’

‘French, Miss?’

Hermione smiled. ‘I meant the house-elf language. I already speak French.’

‘Quand même! Alors, parlons nous en français?’

Hermione agreed and explained the purpose of her project in painstaking and somewhat stilted French. Dilly grew quite excited.

‘This is an excellent undertaking, Mademoiselle. Perhaps wizards may develop more understanding of house-elves as a result of your work and more of us will be treated with sympathy and dignity. I believe that all the elves of Hogwarts will endeavour to assist you.’

Hermione noticed that Dilly’s French was much less stereotyped than her English and wondered if this was typical of French elves or whether Dilly had received an unusual level of education. She mentally reshuffled ‘education’ higher in her list of research topics and wondered if she was embarking on a book or an encyclopaedia.

‘That would be very pleasing to me, Dilly. I have always felt that wizards failed to recognise the intelligence and magical strength of non-humans, particularly elves, and I hope to redress the balance.’

‘Perhaps in a better way than knitting terrible hats, I think?’ Dilly asked slyly.

Hermione laughed. ‘Without doubt, a better way. I think that this is the right time to remind the wizarding world of the achievements of elves in the first and second Wizarding Wars before memories fade and wizards slip back into complacency.’

‘The Headmistress told me that you want to include biographies of certain specific elves, no? Whom do you wish to include?’

‘Well, a biography of Dobby is essential. He was a friend of Harry’s, and his grave seems to be becoming a place of pilgrimage on anniversaries with people leaving flowers and cards. Do you know if any of the elves here knew him well?’

‘He was not at all popular with the regular Hogwarts elves, Mademoiselle. But their opinions are valuable, are they not, even if they are not favourable to Dobby?’

Hermione sighed a little. She accepted that the elves’ views did not necessarily coincide with hers, but it was still a matter for regret.

‘I would like to include some of the other elves I have met personally,’ she said. ‘The stories of Kreacher and Winky, who were involved in the war and who both came from notable pure-blood families, would be very interesting. And it would be good to compare your experience of Beauxbatons with Hogwarts and to contrast it with that of someone who was born and raised at Hogwarts. Perhaps you can recommend someone. And Tabby is another incomer, is she not? I wonder if she is willing to be interviewed?’

‘She is willing to be interviewed if I say she is, Mademoiselle. I am still the superior elf at Hogwarts.’ Dilly drew herself up as straight as her bowed little frame would allow.

‘I will ask Professor McGonagall if she can lend me a room for interviews. I can talk to Kreacher at the Potters’ house. And Dilly, do you know where Winky lives now?’

Dilly suddenly hunched her shoulders and twisted away from Hermione. ‘I cannot say, Mademoiselle.’

Dilly’s tone did not imply that she did not know but rather that she had been forbidden to say. Hermione felt a slight shock of adrenaline. ‘Do you mean that you know, but are unable to tell me?’ she asked cautiously.

Dilly gave a slight squeal and hunched herself over even further, muttering in English,‘Miss is not to ask. Dilly is not to say.’ She swung back towards Hermione. ‘Dilly has to check lists now. Miss must leave and return tomorrow.’

Hermione suddenly realised that the purposeful sounds of the great kitchen had ceased and she was being surveyed with suspicion by all the elves. She was very aware that she was effectively on probation with the elves and had come close to transgressing.

‘Thank you very much for your help, Dilly. I will come back tomorrow. I hope you will continue to be patient with my French.’

She directed a general polite smile around the room and retreated through the portrait-door with as much dignity as she could summon.

She was fully aware that item one on her list of research topics had become ‘Find Winky and ask her about Professor Snape.’