Smile When You Dive In

Chapter 5

At the beginning of Regulus' first year, he had been terrified that Sirius wouldn't speak to him again after his sorting. This belief was furthered by the fact that he didn't seem able to find his brother for nearly two full days after they arrived at the castle. Though, in Sirius' defence, Regulus had trouble finding anything for a while. In a castle with moving stairs and hundreds of passageways, he really thought they ought to hand out maps to first years. Regulus had taken to walking with his hand on the wall like he was in a maze, hoping to find Sirius that way. Eventually though, he had found instead a small passageway behind some barrels, and discovered the haven that was the Hogwarts kitchen. He'd known before he arrived that the kitchen was run by house elves, but he couldn't have imagined just how many would be there. Hundreds of elves moved in perfect synchronicity, a feat that Regulus found most impressive.

At home, Regulus never asked Kreacher to do anything for him. He'd talk to the house elf often of course, but was careful not to make requests once he was old enough to understand that Kreacher couldn't deny him. He always worried that he'd be making Kreacher do something that he didn't want to, and that the house elf would grow to hate him. When he got to Hogwarts, he extended this same courtesy to the elves there.

The first time that Regulus walked into the kitchen, he was overwhelmed by how warm and bright it was. He'd never seen anything like it. Elves whizzed around the kitchen with stacked plates and steaming puddings piled high while whistling away happily. Worried he'd offend them if he turned down any more food after the gargantuan feast he'd just experienced, Regulus had kept to the far side of the room. At a small round table was the most wrinkled and hunched elf Regulus had ever seen. By nature, house elves were usually wrinkled, so he'd never given the ageing process much thought, but the second he saw this elf he had known that he was 'over the hill', to put it politely.

The elf was so old that Regulus quickly discovered he had forgotten his own name. In fact, the elf was so old that none of the other kitchen elves seemed to know his name either. He wore thick glasses over clouded eyes, thin wire wrapped around his big ears. When he first met Regulus, he had mistaken the boy for a lost Hufflepuff, and given him directions to the common room. Regulus tucked away that information for later, and pulled up a seat beside him. Early in his second year, Regulus realised that though the old elf always had a copy of the Daily Prophet in his trembling hands, he could no longer read the text. From then on, he'd sneak in whenever he could to read to his new friend. By his fifth year, Regulus was almost a permanent fixture in the kitchen after dinner. He'd read to the elves, or help them clean on the rare occasion that they would let him. Once, Sirius and his friends had barged in demanding food, only to find him elbow deep in dishwater. Sirius had laughed so hard he'd almost wet himself.

Towards the end of that April, Regulus sauntered into the kitchen, very pleased with himself. In anticipation of the Quidditch Cup, the houses had begun a week of 'friendly' inter-house matches and Regulus had just caught the golden snitch, bagging a win against Ravenclaw. Sensing his glee, some of the elves gave a small cheer but Regulus could tell that the atmosphere in the kitchen wasn't anywhere near the jovial scenes he'd left in the Slytherin common room.

"What's the matter?" He asked Hattie, an elf that spent most of her time brewing pumpkin juice. At the question, she began mopping her face with a hankie, voice incoherent as she wailed. Regulus looked around the kitchen. Several other elves were teary-eyed too. More alarmingly, the table in the corner was empty, with no copy of the Prophet in sight. "Where is he?" Regulus asked.

Hattie was still hysterical but between what he heard from her and another elf, Regulus gathered that he had died the previous night. He didn't know what happened to elves when they died, if they had funerals like people did. Walburga had the head of Kreacher's mother mounted above a door back home, but that surely couldn't be normal. He didn't know if there were house elf graveyards, but he knew that he was angry Hattie had to stir pumpkin juice for the ungrateful staff and students of Hogwarts instead of being allowed to grieve for her comrade.