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TEN NIGHT AND YOU

(AND BLUE HAWAII...)

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       HOLLY HAD TRIED to figure out the golden egg, when the celebrations had turned into the other Slytherins trying to make her open the egg in front of all of them. And Pansy, appalled that they would demand something so Gryffindor out of them, took Holly to the dorm room and they tried to figure it out. They tried. They did not succeed.

      But it's fine. It's fine. Holly's got months and months until the next task, and really, she likes to think that her best work comes at the last minute. One time in primary school she was meant to do this whole project about Ancient Egypt over the course of six months, but it was horrific, and she managed to do a better job in the weekend before than over six months. (Her dad helped a little, but that was because she couldn't cut pictures out neatly and, well, her dad's a plastic surgeon, so he was enlisted.)

       She supposes that she's the only one that hasn't figured it out yet, because if it's going to be anyone that's still figuring out what to do the night before, it's going to be her. There's probably a lesson about what these golden eggs do in Defence Against the Dark Arts that she's too young to have learnt, and since Harry's almost died thirty times, she supposes he knows what the egg is and therefore he knows what to do, as well. It's just her that doesn't... How did she get in this tournament in the first place?

       Like, she's doing well so far, she knows that, but still. She's too young to have learnt the important stuff the others do. No one's out to kill her, she hasn't been forced to learn extra spells in order to survive. Sure, she's got a couple advanced ones up her sleeve, but what's going to happen if she uses them? She'd be sent to Azkaban, and on the way, she'd get killed by Karkaroff by revealing what Durmstrang teaches.

       But the other champions. They're all smart. They know all of the fancy spells in the spellbooks with nicer covers, the ones she's looked at in Diagon Alley and happily thought, one day I'll be getting you. But she hasn't yet, and they have. They know the advanced spells. She can't even ask a teacher for some extra help, because that'll be classed as cheating, or whatever. Not that she'd ask, anyway. She's too stubborn for that, come on.

       Holly leaves her friends in the common room shortly after dinner, walking the route to the kitchens. The second that she and her friends lost excitement in the golden egg, having realised that the screech was nothing but shitty and it only attracted the mermaids in the lake, she introduced the little dragon.

       At first, she was debating whether to name it Vivien or Juliet — Vivien, after the actress Vivien Leigh, or Juliet, after the play. She's leaning towards Vivien now, but she supposes she'll make Juliet the middle name of the little dragon. Vivien Juliet Lippincott, the dragon. Vivien the Dragon. Beautiful but cunning.

       As she was explaining to her friends how she managed to sneak the model dragon out of the tournament grounds, she used an enlarging spell — not so much that Viven's the same size as an actual Peruvian Vipertooth, but rather, the size of a puppy. Big enough that she can cuddle but not too big, in case she gets into trouble for essentially stealing a dragon. (A model dragon, but still.)

       So now, Holly's walking down the corridors in pursuit of the kitchens. She's made Vivien smaller again, so that she can tuck her into her robe pocket and keep her concealed whilst walking past students on their way to dinner. But, she gets to the end of the corridor, tickling the pear on the painting of a fruit bowl, and she watches the door dissolve into sight.

       Holly closes the door to the kitchens behind her, taking Vivien out of her pocket. "Hello, Holly!" says one of the elves. She believes he's the one called Dobby. He's very polite. She likes him... She's also grateful that her friends don't particularly like coming here, because she knows that Dobby used to be one of the Malfoys' house-elves, and she doesn't want to see Draco's reaction to the nice house-elf working here now. "It is not the usual time you visit us — normally it is around breakfast-time...!"

       "Well," says Holly, setting Vivien on one of the tables, and quickly muttering the enlarging spell. "I've happened to have acquired a pet in the past couple days, and I need to figure out what to feed her, so — do you have any roast lamb leftover?"

       "I can get some!" says Dobby, and he hurries off in search.

       Holly strokes Vivien's head. She's been thinking and she has a feeling that she'll be able to feed Vivien leftover lamb, since Vipertooths typically eat sheep. At first she wondered if she needed to feed her, considering she's only a model, but then she started to have a tantrum in the middle of the night, and Holly had to sneak out of the dungeons to scavenge some food from the kitchens. So here she is, stressing.

      Maybe, in the summer, she can test out dog food, see if certain types can be eaten by the little dragon. Although she supposes her main concern for the summer is getting her dad to approve of her not only stealing a (model) dragon, but taking it in and calling it her pet. Her dad still gets weirded-out by Ollivanders, whenever they pass it in Diagon Alley. It might take a couple of weeks for him to get used to a dragon. Whoops.

       "There you go, Holly!" says Dobby, handing Holly a plate of lamb. Before she can thank him, the door opens, and before she can grab the dragon off of the table and hide her, she hears Dobby exclaim, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

       Dobby runs off. Holly sees him hug Harry tightly, as Harry lets out, "D-Dobby?"

       "It is Dobby, sir, it is!" says Dobby. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

       Holly gets a knife and fork from one of the drawers and begins to cut up the roast lamb. She glances over her shoulder, where she finds Harry, Ron, and Hermione staring at her, looking incredibly confused by her presence. She smiles back. "Hello," she says. "Don't mind me, I'm trying to feed my pet."

       "Is that one of the model dragons?" asks Harry.

       "Yes," says Holly. "They didn't ask for them back, so, she's mine."

      Holly continues cutting up the roast lamb, fully aware that the three wizards behind her are wearing various shades of confusion. Maybe a little astonishment. Maybe a little bewilderment, or wonder.

       "Dobby, what're you doing here?" asks Harry, who's thankfully over frowning at Holly for the time being. He does that a lot, though. Holly knows she's such an enigma, but like, it's amazing that her friends haven't picked up on this yet, because she knows they'd make his ears bleed with the amount of insults they'd conjure up.

       "Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" says Dobby. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

       "Winky?" says Harry. "She's here too?"

       Holly feeds Vivien one of the pieces of lamb. She watches the dragon enjoy it, sniffing out of the plate and moving closer towards it. To the side, she sees Dobby pull Harry down one of the aisles between the tables, and Ron and Hermione follow, intrigued. Holly frowns.

       She can't just follow them, can she? It would be rather nice to make a couple more friends but, then again, it might be a little weird, surely, if she just follows them?

       So she waits a minute. She keeps on glancing down to where they're standing, talking to the elf that tends to burst into tears whenever she's spoken to. As soon as she sees a little group of house-elves giving the three a teapot and biscuits, Holly sets foot down one of the aisles between two tables. She takes one of the biscuits from the plate.

       "How long have you been here, Dobby?" says Harry.

      "Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" says Dobby. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed—"

       Winky bursts into tears again. Holly frowns.

       "Dobby has travelled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" says Dobby. Holly keeps on glancing at Winky. She isn't very good at comforting people. Not when they're crying, at least. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

       "They don't pay the house-elves?" Holly lets out, spluttering on her biscuit.

      Hermione frowns. "No..."

      "Oh," says Holly. "That's not good — why don't they—?"

      Hermione nods, looking a little excited. "Exactly!" she says. "Good for you, Dobby!"

      "Thank you, miss!" says Dobby, beaming at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter... Dobby likes being free!"

       Dobby explains to them his and Winky's adventure to find work again. Holly takes another one of the biscuits, having spat out most of the last one. It's not her fault, OK? She was raised by her dad, a muggle, why would she know about house-elves, and the fact that they didn't get paid? It's not like she was taught about them at school.

       "Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," says Dobby. "But Dobby beat him down, miss... Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

       "And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" asks Hermione.

       Winky suddenly stops crying. She gives Hermione the sort of look that Holly's only seen mastered by Durmstrang girls — a glare so incredibly piercing and cold that the person on the other end can feel a chill. "Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she says. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

       "Ashamed?" says Hermione. "But — Winky, come on! It's Mr Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you—"

      "You is not insulting my master, miss!" screeches Winky. Holly frowns. She feels very out-of-the-loop. "You is not insulting Mr Crouch! Mr Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"

      Holly frowns. What happened with Crouch? What? She has a foggy memory of the Daily Prophet talk about something to do with him and his house-elf — Winky — but she doesn't remember the article. All she remembers is her dad reading the article over her shoulder, and making a joke about his surname being crouch.

       "Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," says Dobby. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."

      Harry frowns. "Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?"

      "Oh, no, sir, no," says Dobby, shaking his head. He looks incredibly grave. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds he family's honour, and we never speaks ill of them — though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to —" And he makes a movement so that Harry will sit closer, and he whispers something, giggles, and begins to speak normally. "But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter, Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

       Harry grins at Dobby. "But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?"

       Holly audibly sighs. Harry looks at her, and she makes sure she rolls his eyes as he glances at her. Silent rebellion. Nice one, Hol.

       "Dobby — Dobby could," he says hesitantly. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were — were — bad Dark wizards!

       A lightbulb goes off in Holly's head. How has it taken this long for her to realise? Surely, if Dobby was the house-elf to the Malfoys, he would've met her mother at some point... Maybe she can ask him about her, see if he knows any more than she does. She knows she can't do it now, not with Harry, Ron, and Hermione present.

       She thinks Harry's nice and the other two are OK, she's only spoken to them twice, but she doesn't know any of them well enough for her to ask a friendly elf about her mysterious mother in front of them. She'd struggle talking about it in front of Pansy, or Harlow, and she'd say they're the two she's closest to. Letting them know that she wants to find out about her mother uncovers the rabbit hole, and soon she'll have to reveal that her dad's actually a muggle, that she's forever felt conflicted about her mother because yeah, she was bad, but then, the letter contradicts all of that.

      So she'll wait.

      Dobby had started to bang his head against the table, as if he was still under the Malfoys' command, but Harry holds onto him to stop him. "Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you," says Dobby.

       "You just need a bit of practice," says Harry.

       "Practice!" says Winky, shaking her head. Holly frowns. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"

       "They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" says Dobby. Holly suspects this will soon spiral into comments about her sort-of family, Draco especially, and she slouches a little, like it would hide her. She's barely met her step-family, but she's friends with Draco. She knows that he isn't nice to these three but she also feels wrong saying — or agreeing — with any nasty comments made about him. She sighs. She doesn't know what to do. "Dobby doesn't care what they think  anymore!"

      "Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" says Winky, beginning to cry again. "My poor Mr Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her... oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh, the shame, the shame!"

       "Winky," says Hermione. She has a somewhat stern look on her face. "I'm quite sure Mr Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know—"

       "You is seeing my master?" says Winky. Her eyes widen into the size of saucers, and Holly feels bad, because from what she's seen of Crouch, he isn't the nicest wizard alive. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"

       "Yes," says Hermione. "He and Mr Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."

       "Mr Bagman comes too?" says Winky. Her eyes, evidently a great way to read her feelings, narrow, and the corners of her mouth curving to show a look of angered disgust. "Mr Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

       "What?" says Holly.

       "Bagman — bad?" says Harry.

       As Winky nods furiously, Holly and Harry exchange a glance. From the sounds of things, Draco's comments about Bagman seem to be true. She'll have to ask him about Bagman later, try and slip it into conversation.

       "Oh, yes," says Winky. "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying... Winky — Winky keeps her master's secrets..."

       Holly narrows her eyes, and leans closer to Harry, to whisper, "I'll ask around in the common room and let you know, if I find anything out."

       So she might've changed Draco to the common room. She figures it's better to keep her cousin out of conversation with Harry, and besides, she knows that her house has a lot of children of Death Eaters, maybe if she were to ask around, others would know things. And obviously they'll let her know, not only was her mother a Death Eater, too, but she's their champion. Her house loves her. Finding out about Bagman will take, like, two minutes.

       Winky continues to cry, and Holly excuses herself, walking back to Vivien the Dragon. She finds her dragon curled up in a ball on one of the small barrels, fast asleep, evidently tired from the amount of food she consumed. Holly takes out her wand and shrinks Vivien, so she can carefully place her into the pocket of her robe.

       "Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!"

       "Tell you what, Dobby," says Ron, smiling brightly at the elf. "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you? We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you, but it'll go well with your tea cozy."

       Holly moves to leave, but a couple of the house-elves run over to her, offering her different sorts of pastries and baked goods. She does the usual, and packs as many into her schoolbag, figuring she'll be able to leave them in the common room and surprise her house-mates, who've set up a table in the common room, over the past few years, filled with sweets and cakes that no one else wants. Usually it's people leaving chocolate they got for their birthday, but they don't like it. Draco says the table has piles of sweets after Christmas. Holly cannot wait.

      She thanks the house-elves, and makes sure to mention how much the Slytherins have been enjoying the amount of food she's been giving to them, on behalf of the elves in the kitchen. They seem to smile even brighter when she says this, which makes Holly feel happy. She leaves the kitchens, careful of how she carries her schoolbag, in case she moves it and it knocks against the pocket with Vivien in.

       "You know what?" She glances over her shoulder, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione have left the kitchens and are talking to each other, walking a little bit behind her. Holly continues walking, planning to get back to her common room and get rid of the weights in her bag.

       Holly looks to her side, where Harry's caught up to her. She smiles politely at him, and, making sure her voice is lowered, asks, "Say — have you figured out the golden egg yet?"

       "Have you?" he asks.

       She narrows her eyes for a minute, confused, but then realises that obviously he isn't going to admit it to her, unless she's said anything herself. So she smiles. "I'll take that as a no," she says. "I mean, it's fine, I haven't figured it out, either."

       "How are we supposed to figure it out, anyway?" says Harry. Holly shrugs, and she feels a sense of relief, because at least there's someone who hasn't deciphered it, too. That, and her friends don't properly get this. They're not in the tournament. It's not their responsibility to figure out this stupid egg. "All the egg does is scream."

        "Yeah, well, at least you've got Gryffindor tower," says Holly, sighing. "Every time I try and open it in the dungeons, every sea-creature starts lurking next to the windows..." She frowns to herself for a minute, and quickly re-evaluates every conversation they've ever had together, before she glances at him. "I was thinking of going to the library after school tomorrow, and try and figure out. You're welcome to join."

       Harry looks surprised. Holly's a little surprised that she gathered the courage to ask. Sure, she knows they're not good friends yet, and she knows that she'll have to forever hide their friendship from her friends, but she figures it's a good thing, since he's in the tournament too. And he's nice, and Holly likes making friends.

       "Um, yeah, that would be good," he says. "Uh, Holly?"

      "Yes?" she asks.

       "I was wondering — what you said about Bagman," says Harry. Holly nods slowly. "How are you going to find out what Winky meant?"

       Holly smiles softly. "Draco's mentioned a couple of things about him before, but you know what he's like, so I'll ask some of the Slytherins," she says. "You know a lot of them have relatives that were Death Eaters... And, not only do they like me, but they know about my mum, so they'll tell me if they know anything."

       "Your mum—?"

       "Was a Death Eater," says Holly. "And is now in Azkaban."

       "Oh," he says.

       "I would've thought you'd know," says Holly, raising an eyebrow. Harry frowns. "I mean, the newspapers love to mention it whenever they talk about me... I think one of them said it was cheeky, that I was chosen, because my mother was a Death Eater and your parents — you know. Were good." She looks around. She's digging a hole. "I'll see you around."

       "Yeah," he says.

       She smiles at him, and walks ahead, making her way to the dungeons.

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