xi. a free elf

ϟ

A week had passed as well as the month of November, and with the coming of December came wind and sleet, and Harry still hadn't brought up the kiss. He's had many chances seeing as he and Matilda still spend much of their days together. And they talk – talk about everything but what happened outside the Ravenclaw common room a week ago. He kissed her, Harry kissed her, and Matilda still couldn't wrap her head around it. It was a real kiss too. Not to be mistaken for the quick cheek pecks she has had before, but a real, on the lips, butterflies in her stomach kiss.

Matilda didn't believe that Harry wanted to talk about the kiss. Maybe he was afraid to bring it up around her in fear of a harsh rejection. But Matilda needed to talk about it. To know what had been going through Harry's head that evening, to know what told him to kiss her. Matilda refused to believe that it was because he fancied her. She was sure that if that was the reason than she'd have noticed the signs of his affection, but little to Matilda's knowledge, she has turned away a number of Hogwarts students who were blatant with their feelings for her, unknowingly.

With the stronger winds and the dropping temperatures that came with the winter months, Matilda was glad for her fires and thick walls in the castle as she passed the Dummstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. She thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly, too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock were enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class lightheaded. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible Skrewts, and needed their wits about them.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an' see if they fancied a kip... We'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes..."

There were now only ten Skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill each other had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick grey armor, their powerful, scuttling legs, their fire-blasting ends, their stings and their suckers, combined to make the Skrewts the most repulsive things Matilda had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

But the Skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling Don' panic, now, don' panic! while the Skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class – Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead – had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, Matilda, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the Skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one Skrewt was left.

"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted, as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the Skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an' slip the rope round his sting, so he won' hurt any o' the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily, as he and Matilda backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the Skrewt off with their sparks.

"Well, well, well... this does look like fun."

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the Skrewt that was cornering Matilda and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter, as he slipped a loop of rope around the Skrewt's sting and tightened it.

Matilda scoffed, unimpressed by Rita Skeeter's presence, "No one important."

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore?" said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed Skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely.

"Don't answer her, Hagrid," said Matilda in a warning tone as she continued to glare at the witch in magenta.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.

"Really?" said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. "I've never heard of them before... where do they come from?"

Matilda noticed a dull red flush rising out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and her heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the Skrewts from?

Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, said quickly, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they, Harry?"

"What? Oh, yeah... ouch... interesting,' said Harry, as Hermstepped on his foot.

"Ah, you're here, Harry!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"

"Yes," said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him.

"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid.

Matilda noticed her eyes travel over Dean, who had a nasty cut across one cheek; Lavender, whose robes were badly singed. Seamus, who was nursing several burnt fingers, and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass, waiting to see if the coast was clear.

"This is on'y me second year," said Hagrid.

"Lovely... I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these – er – Bang-Ended Scoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er – yeah, why not?"

Matilda had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, so she stood in silence and glared at Rita while she made arrangements to meet Hagrid in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

"Well, goodbye, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to him, as he set off with Ron and Hermione. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"

"She'll twist everything he says," Matilda said under her breath.

"Just as long as he didn't import those Skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione desperately. They looked at each other – it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do.

"Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him," said Ron consolingly. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the Skrewts. Sorry... did I say worst? I meant best."

Matilda, Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.

ϟ

Matilda thoroughly enjoyed Arithmancy with Hermione that afternoon. They were still doing the golden ratio, which has many other names, according to Professor Vector, two of the most common being the divine proportion or the golden proportion. During class the held a discussion on identifying the golden ratio in art, nature, and architecture. The class's participation and effort please Professor Vector so much that toward the end of class she announced that the 1,000-word essay wouldn't be required, only for extra credit, and she dismissed the small classroom of six students.

As they were exiting the classroom Matilda turned to ask Hermione if she would be doing the extra-credit assignment, but by the time she turned her head, Hermione was already disappeared behind the corner. Rolling her eyes Matilda went about down the corridor toward the Great Hall for dinner. Also, just now exiting their own classroom was Harry and Ron.

"What's with the face, Harry?" Matilda questioned, walking up behind him and Ron. "Trelawney predict your death again?"

Harry scoffed, "It wouldn't be a normal day if she hadn't. But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. "At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not working when she is ..."

"You're going to be quite disappointed then," said Matilda. "Professor Vector had been so impressed with the class led discussion today that she made our essay optional."

"Let me guess," Ron rolled his eyes. "You're still going to write the essay."

Matilda shrugged as they made their way through the Great Hall doors, "Don't have to, it's been done for weeks now."

"Oh, well excuse me for thinking you were normal," he joked.

"Believing me to be normal," Matilda shook her head as she sat down across from Ron. "The worst mistake anyone could make."

Matilda grinned across the table and she and Ron continued talking about their classes. It was then she realized just how much she had missed him. Not having him around to lighten the mood really took a toll on all of them. Matilda had failed to realize until now just how much it is that Ron brightens her mood by making her laugh.

Dinner was as it was every night, exceptional. Hermione never showed though, and nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterward. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Harry and Matilda whether he should ask for an autograph – but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

"Wonder where she's got to?" Ron said as he and Harry led Matilda back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno... Balderdash."

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forwards when the sound of racing feet behind them announced Hermione's arrival.

"Harry!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside him. the Fat Lady stared down at her; eyebrows raised. "Harry, you've got to come – you've got to come, the most amazing thing's happened – please –"

She seized Harry's arm and started to try and drag him back along the corridor.

"What's the matter?" Harry said.

"I'll show you when we get there – oh, come on, quick –"

Harry looked around at Ron; he looked to Matilda; she looked back at Harry, intrigued.

"OK," Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron, and Matilda hurrying to keep up.

"Oh, don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after them. "Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?"

"Yeah, thanks," Ron shouted over his shoulder.

"Bit of a drama queen, isn't she?" Matilda laughed.

Ron scoffed, shaking his head, "You've got no idea."

"Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked, after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the Entrance Hall.

"You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried towards the door through which Cedric Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry's names. Matilda, Harry, and Ron followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one which led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad, stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

"Oh, hang on..." said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione..."

"What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

"I know what this is about," said Harry.

He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit-bowl. Matilda looked up at too, quite impressed by the detail shown by the artist.

"Hermione!" said Ron, cottoning on. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!"

"No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron –"

"Changed the name, have you?" said Ron, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it –"

"Ronald!" Matilda said suddenly, making Ron stop his rambling. "Would you shut up and listen?"

"Thank you, Tilly," Hermione nodded in her direction as she tapped her foot impatiently. "I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found – oh, come on, Harry, I want to show you!"

She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit-bowl, stretched out her forefinger and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.

Matilda got a brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled past her and towards Harry who stood in the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

The next second the squealing elf hit Harry hard in the midriff, likely knocking the air out of him, as they hugged him tightly.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from the elf who was still hugging Harry's waist. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked almost exactly as Matilda remembered him, which had already been two years almost. The pencil-shaped nose, the bat-like ears, the long fingers and feet – all except the clothes, which were very different.

When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Matilda had ever seen; he had made an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards on the magazines. He was wearing a tea-cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's football shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Matilda noticed, was the black one Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.

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

Matilda furrowed her eyebrows. Dumbledore had not told her about hiring Dobby to come work for him. They talked so often that she found it odd he not mention it to her. Her biggest worry though was the pay. Matilda hoped that Dumbledore was paying Dobby for his service in the kitchen.

"Winky?" said Harry. "She's here, too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand, and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Matilda, Hermione, and Ron followed. Each of these tables, Matilda noticed as she passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four house tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but she supposed that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing and curtseying as Dobby led Harry and the others past them. They were all wearing the same uniform; a tea-towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.

"Winky, sir!" he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn-in her skirt.

Matilda's face dropped at the sight of the elf, not only was her clothes tarnished, but she seemed terribly unhappy.

"Hello, Winky," said Harry.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front.

"Oh, dear," said Hermione. She and Ron went to follow Harry, Hermione having to turn back to grab Matilda and drag her along, as Matilda didn't feel as though she would be any due to her lack of empathy. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..."

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

"Er – yeah, OK," said Harry.

Matilda rolled her eyes and leaned into Harry to whisper, "Tea? At a time like this?"

"I don't wish to hurt his feelings and have him crying by the fireplace too," Harry whispered back.

Matilda took a step back and nodded. Harry had a point. She was barely able to put up with one crying house-elf, she'd have to see herself out of the kitchen if there was two.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Matilda, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

"Good service!" Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione and Matilda frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.

"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

"Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "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 –"

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.

"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing.

Matilda, however, with a sense of relief at learning that Dumbledore was in fact paying Dobby, said, "Good for you, Dobby."

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily 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!"

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he was carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume of her crying, making Matilda more and more uncomfortable.

"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed, too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forwards off her stool, and lay, face down, on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her, and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference.

"Is there a way to make her stop?" Matilda asked Dobby.

Apparently, there was no way to stop the shrill crying of Winky as Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches. "And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?'" Dobby says. "Where is there enough work for two house-elves?" says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So, Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"That's all?" Matilda questioned; her eyebrows slightly raised as she began planning to talk with Dumbledore about this during their next tea-time.

"Tilly's right, Dobby" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating. "That's not very much!"

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches was frightening, "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?" Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer Winky up, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

"Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly. "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 –"

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"

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

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

"Oh, no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir, we upholds the family's honor, 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 – to –"

Dobby looked suddenly nervous, and beckoned Harry, Ron, and Matilda closer. They bent forwards.

Dobby whispered, "He said we is free to call him a – a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!"

Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle.

"But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets for him."

"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning.

A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes.

"Dobby – Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were – were – bad Dark wizards!"

Matilda scoffed and mumbled just loud enough that only Ron could head, "Trust me, that's no secret."

Ron chuckled, agreeing with Matilda.

Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring – then he rushed over to the nearest table, and began banging his head on it, very hard, squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.

"Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

"You just need a bit of practice," Matilda said.

"Practice!" squealed Winky furiously. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"

"They isn't my masters any more, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think any more!"

"Oh, you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "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!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

"Winky," said Hermione, firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know –"

"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tear-stained face out of her skirt once more, and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"

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

"Mr. Bagman comes to?" squeaked Winky, and to Matilda and everyone else's great surprise, she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

"Really?" Matilda questioned, grinning mischievously "Bagman is bad?"

"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously. "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying... Winky – Winky keeps her master's secrets..."

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"

Matilda sighed sounding greatly disappointed as Winky once again dissolved into tears, "I don't think we'll be getting any of the juicy details anytime soon."

They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying, and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

"Dobby is going to buy a jumper next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

"Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to 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?"

Matilda smiled up at Ron as Dobby became delighted at hearing the offer.

"We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with your tea-cozy."

As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione and Matilda refused, Hermione with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtseying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies.

"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say goodnight. "See you, Dobby!"

"Harry Potter... can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively.

"Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.

"You know what?" said Ron, once he, Matilda, Hermione, and Harry had left the kitchens behind, and were climbing the steps into the Entrance Hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens – well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"

"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that, too!"

Matilda scoffed, "Let's hope they don't decide to take after that Winky in there."

"Oh, she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man."

"She seems to love him," said Ron thickly as he had just started chowing down on a cream cake.

"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"

"Probably says he's not very goof Head of Department," said Matilda, shrugging. "And let's face it, he's right. Bagman is awful at his job."

"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humor."

"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?" said Ron, now starting on a chocolate éclair. "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea-cozy."

Ron led the way through the portrait hole as Hermione followed behind him laughing as he continued to joke about Percy's dry personality, but before Harry could climb in with them, Matilda took him by the wrist, stopping him from going any further.

"Harry," said Matilda firmly. "We've got to have it out."

Harry let out a long and exaggerated sigh. He looked tired and there was no doubt he was. He's been very busy these past few months, and Matilda feels for him, but she can't go another day without talking about the kiss.

"Why?" Harry pleaded with her. "Why do we have to have it out?"

"Well, because if we don't, I might go crazy," said Matilda.

"Look," Harry sighed once more. "I know what you're going to say, and I agree, the kiss was a mistake, I was coming down from the rush of the tournament and I obviously wasn't thinking straight, so... I kissed you. No big deal."

"Harry that was my first kiss, and yours too," she said softly. "And I don't necessarily think it was a mistake."

"You don't?" Harry's gaze lifted from the ground.

"Harry, I dreaded the idea of not knowing how my first kiss would pan out," Matilda confessed. "But I find relief now that it was with you – someone I respect, someone I trust. It couldn't have been more perfect actually."

"So... it's not going to be awkward between us?" Harry asked, looking as though a weight of a thousand pounds had been lifted from his shoulders. "And we can still talk and be friends."

"Well, Harry, I don't see how I'm going to get you through this tournament alive if we aren't speaking," said Matilda, grinning.

"Great," Harry sighed. "Well then, goodnight, Tilly."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Matilda felt the same relief as Harry at that moment. No longer was the stress of the kiss lingering on her shoulders. No longer was she worried about her friendship with Harry. Their friendship is what had her the most worried. She had grown fond of Harry Potter, so much so that she would call him more than her friend, he's her best friend, and living without him would not be something she wanted to do.  

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AN:// sorry this was such a short and boring chapter. 

Hope you enjoyed it. Leave a life and some comments if you did!

xoxo