James Potter and the Crimson Thread

10. HAGRID'S LETTER

The first snow fell on Hogwarts even before the autumn leaves had fully abandoned the trees. The flakes fringed the remaining leaves with sparkling beards, and then cloaked the entire forest with fluffy brilliance. James awoke on the last day of November with grey brightness glaring from the window next to his bed. He sat up blearily, rubbing his eyes, only to find that it was not, in fact, breakfast time, but barely dawn. Outside, the snow had converted the world to a blanket of unnatural brightness, fooling even the birds in the forest, who sang and twittered in the muffling distance.

James was about to flop back onto his bed again when a shape moved silently nearby, accompanied by the stir of coals in the stove at the centre of the room. He was not alarmed, recognizing at once that it was the house elf assigned to Gryffindor tower. He had seen the tiny imp on only a few occasions over the years, but felt comfortable enough with it to whisper a good morning.

Surprised, the elf stiffened so that its shoulders hunched up next to its ears. Its head turned to look back at James with one enormous, crystal- ball-like eye. The iris was mossy green, surrounding a huge black pupil. James could clearly see the reflection of the open stove door reflected in the elf's eyeball.

"Sorry, Master Potter," the elf whispered back, hiding the squeak of its voice. It was a male, James was quite sure, his ears pointed like bat's

wings and large enough to serve as an umbrella in the event of rain. Like most of the other Hogwarts house elves, this one wore a cloth napkin like a small toga. The napkin was embroidered with the Hogwarts crest. "Piggen didn't mean to wake Master Potter, sir."

"Piggen," James yawned hugely, so that his jaw cracked. "That's really your name? Piggen?"

"Piggentottenwuggahooliguffin, sir," the elf answered obediently, still in a thin whisper. "Son of Tottenwuggahooliguffinoogersham."

"Piggen it is, then," James stretched and flopped so that his head was at the foot of his bed. Arms crossed over his footboard, he studied the elf by the stove. "It's my last year, Piggen. Just thought maybe I should introduce myself while I still have a chance."

The elf's eyes widened and he took a step backward on his huge, bare feet. "No introduction needed, Master Potter, sir. Piggen is happy never to be noticed as he stokes the fire and collects the laundry and dusts and sweeps and cleans the bathroom—"

"My aunt Hermione wouldn't let me come home for Christmas dinner if she knew I'd had a chance to introduce myself to you and passed it up." James smiled ruefully.

"Ahh," the elf blinked, "Miss Granger, the founder of the Ess Pee Eee Double-you. We has her school picture hanging on the wall in our rooms, sir. We're very indebted to Miss Hermione Granger. She's the reason we has a coalition agreement with the school, making certain only elves do elf work, you see. The master of our guild, Dufferwunkin, has a term for it. He calls it jobsek-yurready. He says jobsek-yerready is very important for us elves."

"Jobsek..." James squinted. "You mean job security? I don't think that's quite what Aunt Hermione had in mind when she started SPEW."

"Well, we doesn't wish to become freed, sir," the elf said, wagging his head with slow emphasis. "Especially now that the Vow of Secrecy is weakened. Well-meaning witches and wizards speak of freeing all the house elves now, even outlawing our service. They say it will look bad to the Muggles, should the two worlds merge."

James was not a morning thinker under the best of circumstances. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with a thumb and forefinger. "Like, the Muggles will think you're slaves or something? But, like, aren't you basically slaves?"